


Sold My Soul To A Three Piece

by Comp_Lady



Series: He Told Me I Was Holy [5]
Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Anxiety, Blow Jobs, Hair Pulling, It's subtext, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-29 11:22:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13926126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comp_Lady/pseuds/Comp_Lady
Summary: Love, as Paul told the Corinthians, is patient, and kind.  It does not envy.  It does not boast, it is not proud, it is not rude or self-seeking.  Love is not easily angered, and it keeps no record of wrongs.  It does not delight in evil, but rejoices in the truth.  Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.  Love never fails.Ben is a sub, his first long term contract with a Dom ended abruptly. Leaving him drifting in waters he’s never really explored before. After over a year of keeping his head down and subsisting on small scenes with different Doms Ben finds himself wanting more. Wanting something that will last.George is a Dom with a long line training contracts and episodic scenes in his younger years. Now he wants something permanent. He wants a sub who he doesn’t have to train from the ground up. A sub he can build something good with.They meet at a club.





	1. The Three Piece

**Author's Note:**

> IT'S MY BIRTHDAY AND I'M BRINGING IT BACK. A lot went down, and while I will be eternally sorry for what happened, I am going to move on. So here is SMS, back and better than before!
> 
> If you're a new reader: Welcome! I hope you enjoy!
> 
> If you're an older reader: Don't skip a chapter just because it's a repost, I'm going to be changing a lot and I wouldn't want you to miss a new detail. ;D

Ben isn't sure what he expected out of his excursion to Club Enigma. It's been years since he's gone to any sort of club, not since his early days at Yale. Jamming himself among dozens of other young bodies in the cheap clubs right outside of campus. Exhilarated by a freedom that Setauket never provided him and his friends.

But now he spends too long in his cramped apartment. Locked away in the quiet and the dark with his boxes, books, and Netflix. Until Nate had started making mother hen noises. So, he ignored the little voice in the back of his head saying that this is how it all started with _him,_ and ventured out. The place was safe, it had to be, Nate recommend Enigma to him, said it was run by one of the older Doms in the Red Arbor community. One of the Doms rumored to have "fixed" it a few years ago, working to make things safer for subs and Doms alike.

So, safe.

Which is what he wants.

There’s nothing really universal about clubs that are independent owned, but then again Ben has only ever been in franchise owned clubs. Each with some “unique” shtick that the claim is their own, though they all are really the exact same brand of dark and loud. Enigma's a entire atmosphere is different. The walls are all painted a warm red, the couches made of a smooth and soft black leather, the surfaces a sleek brushed metal. The lighting is brighter than in any club he had gone to before, the music quieter, the staff more alert and less inclined to joke around. The main floor is one giant open space, littered with places for people to sit and various play furniture. There are curtained Alcoves along a side wall, two hallways that he's told lead to private rooms in the back. Nestled between the hallways entrances is a small buffet area, separated from the main floor by the bar itself.

He still ends up feeling horribly out of place, sliding onto a stool at a stilted table with some sort of mocktail (no alcohol sold… that certainly wasn’t common back in New Haven). He sips away, tries not to twitch nervously at the snaps of a whip and the accompanying pained sounds coming from behind closed curtains, keeping half a disinterested eye on the couple demonstrating a rather technical looking shibari piece at a booth across the room. He's not sure how long he sits there, watching people move past, oblivious to him as they enjoy their night out. Ben is sure that most passing by and milling around are assuming that he's merely stopped by after work for a drink and a show, nothing interesting about him to catch attention. Nerves stop him from trying to talk to someone else or draw attention to himself.

 _This was a mistake_ , he thinks as he finishes off his drink.

"Date decide not to show?" A voice catches his attention from somewhere behind him, not too far away. Casual tone. Maybe a little curious.

The only person it could belong to sits on the couch a few feet away from Ben, just behind him and to the left. Older than Ben, but it's hard to say how much older, he's likely a business man if the suit is any indication. Peering at Ben over the rim of a pair of wire-frame glasses, his legs are crossed and his phone is balanced on his knee. For all appearances he actually came here to relax after work, like the other business types milling around the club. He exudes all the calm confidence of a Dom comfortable with his position in the world. Ben glances around to see if he can spot the man's sub (because there is no chance that someone like him doesn't have one), but there is no one around and no indication that someone came here with him.

The man doesn't say anything at Ben's extended silence. At the way Ben obviously surveys the area. Just seems to be waiting to see if Ben says or does anything further.

“I… There was no date. I just wanted to see if I was, I don't… if I was ready to get back into the scene." He flinches at that, making it sound like he's trying to get into a _hobby_ and not regain a major part of himself. How impressive, Ben.

The man watches him, his gaze isn't uncomfortable, but Ben still finds himself shifting in his seat. There's nothing holding him there, he hasn't been given an order of any sort, any reason to give this man his attention. He could still leave.

"Your last contract ended then."

It wasn't a question but Ben still finds himself nodding, folding his arms tightly across his chest. Contract ended… yeah, that’s a tidy way to describe it.

"I'm George."

Ben jerks his gaze up from the floor. The man is still on the couch, he's uncrossed his legs and his phone is discarded on the low table in front of him. His other hand extended in front of him. Ben glances to the door, to the bar where a waitress has stopped to collect drinks. Hesitantly Ben slips off the stool and steps toward the man. Grasping the proffered hand, tries to ignore the shiver that runs up his spine as the broad hand engulfs his own slender one. Tries not to think about what that hand would feel like of the back of his neck, the strength exhibited in such a simple action leading his mind to places it hasn't been in a long time. George nods to the seat next to him in a silent invitation and Ben falls into it, slumping rather gracelessly into the plush leather. George still has his hand in his own, his grip shifted to he can trace his thumb over Ben's knuckles before releasing letting go.

Ben has to suppress another shiver, and he tucks his hands between his knees. He probably makes quite the ridiculous picture but George's expression doesn't reveal what he thinks one way or the other. Well, no, he possibly looks amused or… concerned? Ben's not sure.

"I just kind of miss having… someone. Not just the contract, or- or any of that stuff. I was hoping that I'd maybe be able to find…" Ben sighs, scrubs a hand over his face and doesn't look at George. He has no fucking idea what he was planning. With any of this. Now that he has to try and explain it to someone else it is painfully obvious. "I didn't think I'd be so out of my depth."

That last part is a whisper, really only for himself but George must hear it because his gaze softens a bit. Slipping the glasses off and tucking them away safely in his suit jacket before turning to properly face Ben. He asks what Ben is studying, nodding at his hoodie that loudly proclaims YALE across the front at Ben's questioning look. Teaching, graduated already just on sort of a break now he shrugs, _teaching what_ , history, _is that a favorite subject of yours_ , and on and on the conversation curls. George carefully pulling Ben out of the little shell he had wrapped around himself. Ben barely notices, swept up in the litany of questions about his studies and interests and classes. What was his favorite class? Least favorite class? What did he like and dislike about his coursework? Did he have a chance to student teach yet? Ben hardly gets the chance to turn the conversation away from himself. Doesn't even notice that he's slowly unfolded out of his hunched position and has shifted to sit more comfortably, his entire body tilted to face George as they talk. When a lull finally comes to the conversation Ben finds himself leaning back into the seat. Lets himself sink into the overstuffed cushion feeling calmer than he has in a long while. A humming warmth under his skin.

"What'd you come here for? If it isn't too personal," he asks, pulling his feet up under himself on the couch.

Something shifts in George's gaze, "I think much for the same reasons you did."

Ben cocks his head to the side.

"It's been a long time since I have had a long-term contract. I've been taking on a lot of shorter term training contracts these past few years, in between those it's been… empty. My time training subs is over now, I'm looking for some to have a long-term contract with. At the very least."

"And you haven't found that person?" It's so hard for Ben to believe. Sure, he's only known George for a few hours or so, but he just seems so… ideal.

George merely quirks and eyebrow at him. "Let's just say I have hope."

Ben glances around the club. At the Doms and subs lounging and talking, some obviously initiating scenes, at the cuffs and the ropes and the paraphernalia. He'd been here for hours and yet none of them had caught his eye. None of them seemed to be the type to give him what he wants, what he needs. What he's been craving ever since he first presented as a sub all those years ago. What he left home to try and find. Yes, he could subsist on the episodic style, a scene here and a scene there, but it was only just barely enough to quench the needs that would burn through him. Episodic was not his natural disposition. He wanted… he wanted…

"Are you looking for something specific? In a sub?" Ben's eyes flit about to random points within the rest of his club, and he can feel George's gaze settle maybe just a little bit heavier on him.

"Just someone who is willing to be in it for the long haul, I have no inclination of playing the field again." George's hand comes to rest on the cushion just beside Ben's head and his pulse starts to race. He leans in a little closer.

"I… I'm looking for the same."

"Oh? You didn't sound so sure when you sat down earlier."

Ben nods quickly, hair brushing against George's fingertips. "I didn't know how to phrase it, I've been doing episodic scenes for so long now."

"But that’s not your disposition..." George's voice is low, deep tones resonating through Ben as the older man leans in closer. He doesn't hide his shiver, not when all he wants to do is curl forward and present the back of his neck. Instead Ben shuffles a bit closer on the couch.

"It’s not," he admits, "it just makes me feel tired. I want something, someone, stable." _Someone safe_ he doesn't say.

There are fingers tracing along the back of his neck and he goes still, head dipping to give them more access. _Oh please, oh please, oh please._

"I think we might be able to help each other, Ben."

 _Oh please oh please I can be good._ "Yes," he breathes.

George's large warm hand closes around the back of his neck and Ben feels his face go slack, lips parting ever so slightly as his eyes slide closed. A bit of pressure and he's being guided down down down until his head rests against George's thigh. Senses consumed by the other man, the warmth of his body and the scent of his cologne and the pleased hum he lets out when Ben's body goes slack as well. His other hand cards through Ben's hair and George gives the back of his neck just the lightest of squeezes.

"You are divine, my boy"


	2. Saying That I Want More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is... literally a week later than I wanted to post. #loloop
> 
> Work has been kicked my butt, what can I say.

George doesn't try to dip Ben into subspace that night, and Ben is surprised but grateful. It was a public space, they had just agreed to start  _ something _ , they did not move to one of the curtained alcoves along the far wall or to the private rooms in the back hallway. It was enough to lay there curled on the couch with his head in George's lap, where he could just take in the calm warmth of George presence. When they parted ways it was with swapped phone numbers and parting squeeze on the back of his neck from George.

When he sleeps that night he dreams of warm, broad hands.

The texts they exchange over the next few days circle around the mundane.  _ How was work? How was your day? I like ropes more than cuffs _ . Nothing too serious or too heavy. Ben found himself concentrating more on the interests list that he printed up from a random dynamics ed website instead.

_ "I want to give it a week or so. Give both of us time to think about what we want and expect out of this. Time to gather a list of our likes and dislikes, our hard limits. We shouldn't be going into this blind," George had said as he shrugged on his suit coat. And good lord did that sight make Ben want to sink to his knees right there. _

_ Instead he nodded, biting the inside of his lip to stop himself from saying something stupid. _

It seems oddly formal to Ben. His last Dom hadn't bothered with any sort of pseudo-self-vetting period beforehand; they'd met and he told Ben he wanted him and that was it. Contract presented and signed the next day, no time spent over likes or dislikes. It had felt like diving into the deep end of the pool, exhilarating and daring, at least until Ben realized there was a weight around his ankle. Sitting cross legged on his bed, staring at the long checklist of kinks, Ben can't help but think that this is both better and worse. Going in blind certainly did him no favors last time, and this is a daunting opportunity. Ben isn't sure  _ what _ he likes anymore. What would he like if it was done differently (he won't think properly, won't let his mind fall down that rabbit hole) or even just by someone else. He's always been fairly inexperienced but it’s never been so obvious before. He wants the list to be as accurate as he can make it but…

What if Ben's tastes aren't varied enough and George calls this all off?

It's not uncommon for incompatibilities to arise this early when forming a contract. All it takes is for a few key interests to misalign and for one person to decide it wasn't worth it to try. George could decide that. George is an older Dom, smart and attractive, knows exactly what he wants. And he did  _ say _ that he wasn't looking to train up another sub. Would Ben's inexperience count against him? Would his hesitance count against him? Knowing what you want and how you want it is the marker of a good sub… right? It was something his old Dom insisted, and it isn't a rare sentiment to have.  _ Know yourself, know your limits, and you will serve better _ and all that middle school dynamics ed  _ "So You've Presented As A Sub? Now What?" _ booklet bullshit.

The rows of empty check boxes stare up at Ben, each one proof that Ben really doesn't know what he wants or likes. Making him terribly grateful for the distraction when his phone buzzes on the nightstand.

**_G.Washington:_ ** _ I think I have everything sorted for myself. How are thing on your end? _

Ben cocks his head, glances at his woefully incomplete list. He knows what he wants out of this contract but all the little details...

**_Ben:_ ** _ I think I'm ready _

Moments after he hits send George is calling him.

"Benjamin."

Ben sits up a little straighter at the greeting. It's just his name but… at the club George didn't use his full name. He had asked if Ben was short for Benjamin and that was it. This was… different.

"Hi, um, how are you?"

"Quite well, are you okay? You sound a little nervous."

"I kind of am," Ben sighs and winces at the burst of static is causes. "Nervous, that is. It's been a long time since I've had a lifestyle contract and I'm excited but… y'know, almost two years is…"

George hums, "that's understandable. It's a big change, if you want we can wait a bit longer, for you—"

"No! No! I—" Ben's jumped to his feet and his heart sets a rabbit's pace in his chest "—please, I- I'm sorry. For interrupting."

"It's fine, Ben. Are you  _ sure _ that everything is okay?"

Ben sinks back down onto his bed, stomach rolling, lets George's voice wash over him for just a moment. The sudden surge of panic that had hit him like a truck leaving him feeling weak for a long moment. He feels like if he blinks this opportunity will whizz past him and be gone forever.

"I'm sure, really. I just… I don't know," he mumbles.

There's a moment of silence before George speaks again.

"Benjamin, I want you to listen carefully," he says, and  _ oh _ . It's not just the use of his full names that has Ben going still. George's voice is infused with a natural authority. The trademark of a Dom voice. It's not harsh, not cruel; Ben can't help but compare it to the feel of his hand on the back of his neck that night in the club.

He nods before remembering that he's on the phone and choking out an affirmative.

"In any contract or relationship I hold three aspects in the highest regard, they are honesty, trust, and safety. We cannot be safe if we do not trust each other and we cannot trust each other if we are not honest. In all things, Benjamin. I need you to be honest with me, right now: Are you okay?"

"I'm scared," Ben whispers, voice and body shaking like leaves in a storm, "I want this, I do. I- I just- I- I don't want to ruin it before it starts, but now it feels like I'm doing that anyway and I'm sorry."

"You're fine, my boy, absolutely fine. I was going to suggest that we meet tomorrow, but I think it might be better to do so tonight, if you're available."

Ben glances at his still unfinished checklist.

"Yeah, tonight would be great, where do you want to meet?"

LINE BREAK BITCHES

The restaurant is quiet, from the entrance Ben can see that there's a decent amount of distance between the tables and that each booth is surrounded by high, padded walls. Affording as much privacy as possible to the patrons. There's an overall aura of wealth that permeates the place, to the point where Ben is sure he can taste it on the air. The hostess gives him a plastic smile that becomes a little more natural when he drops the name George Washington. She leads him to a booth near the back, a circular table with a wraparound cream cushioned bench surrounded by the same high walls.

George is already there, menu lying on the table in front of him and no glasses in sight. He looks up when Ben approaches and smiles. Leaning back as Ben slides into the booth. Ben just asks for water when the hostess inquires as to what he would like to drink and then it's just to two of them.

"Hello, Benjamin. I’m pleased to see you're looking well."

"Thanks, probably better than I sounded on the phone at least," Ben says, letting out a small laugh. Really it was more of a huff of air than anything else. Sighing as George reaches over and brushes his hair out of his face, leaning into the touch when George trails his hand down until he's cupping Ben's jaw.

"I'll admit you had me worried. The next time it happens, tell me. I won't have my sub worrying needlessly over something, not when I can do something about it. Do you understand?"

_ His sub, his sub, his sub. _ Ben doesn't even realize his eyes had been drifting shut until George's hold becomes firm.

"Benjamin." His voice is firm and it takes Ben's mind a moment to catch up to where they are, to realize that George is probably expecting a response.

"Yes, sir."

George doesn’t exactly smile, but his eyes soften and it’s enough for Ben’s heart to flutter. Then his hold loosens so he can stroke his thumb along the edge of Ben's jaw.

"That's a good boy. I expect a verbal answer when I ask a question, I know it's small but it's better to get into the habit as soon as possible. Now I usually go about starting my contracts a little differently, but those have also all been training contracts. With you I want to do something a little different."

Ben doesn't stop himself from edging closer to George, listening intently to every word George says.

"It's easy enough to fall into a contract feel beholden to it," George says, "so we should take some time to explore this without any obligations. That way should one of us find it insufficient we can work together to change it, make sure it’s balanced to both of our needs.”

Ben finds himself nodding along, "I think what I mainly want is to be able to explore my limits on my own terms, I guess."

Something flashes in George's eyes at that, too quick for Ben to place. Before he can even think to ask George is brushing his hair back with a soft touch. "That sounds perfect, my boy. I'm thinking that we can continue to meet at Enigma."

Ben melts. "That's fine with me," he mumbles, "I don't really have a lot of experience with clubs."

"Didn't go to many?"

"Not after my first year at Yale, studies and then my old Dom took up a lot of my time. He, um, he wasn't fond of going out to community events or clubs. But I'm… I'm open to trying almost anything."

That earns him a disbelieving look.

"I have limits," Ben assures. He just isn't entirely sure what all of them are, and he'll leave that unsaid, thank you very much. Instead he pulls out the checklist he had rushed to fill out before leaving and sets it on the table between them. It's a long line and  _ yes _ and  _ maybe _ down the page with only a handful of  _ no _ boxes checked. Far more generous than it should be but it should work, it will work.

The wire-framed glasses appear and George begins looking over the list, carefully going section by section and line by line to see what Ben checked as yes or no, what he gave a high or low score. On the last page in the empty white space he pauses at the list of hard limits Ben wrote down. No Scat, humiliation, permanent marks, asphyxiation, sounding, or figging. It's short, Ben knows it's short. His lack of experience has guaranteed that. Even with that caveat there are things Ben know he probably should have included in the list. Leashes, for one thing, but then what he left of isn’t  _ that serious _ he tells himself. Probably.

"Not a long list."

"Uh, no, I'm willing to try just about anything."

George eyes him over the rim of his glasses for a long moment, giving Ben the distinct feeling that George suddenly  _ knows _ that he's hiding something. Which he isn't. He's just… stretching things a bit to fit what he needs. He  _ isn't  _ lying when he says he hasn't tried a lot, and his list of hard limits doesn't include the ones that he finds off-putting but they are hard limits. They're what he absolutely will not do, and that’s what George specifically asked for.

He doesn't express his relief when George moves on to the next subject, setting Ben's papers aside so he can look over them again later. George's own preferences are concise, his knowledge and interests are varied but there's nothing that sets off a surge of panic in Ben's mind. Soon enough the conversation drifts back to the club, and plans are made. Every other day, for at least two weeks, they'll meet at the club. Engaging in a scene isn't required, and if play does happen there is to be no intercourse. After that they'll discuss the contract.

Ben's giddiness floats him out of the restaurant and through the next day until he sees George again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [hmu on the blue hellsite that I wish to be free of ngl](http://comp-lady.tumblr.com)


	3. It's Coming Down, Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben talk with his friends and continues to see George

Contracts are an interesting aspect to life. Episodic or lifestyle, they're placed on a pedestal above marriage. Second only to a bonding between Dom and sub. It's an argument that may hold some weight. For many the collar is more sacred than any wedding ring, what it represents holding more weight and meaning. At some point in every lifestyle contract the sub will want to have some sort of claim to display. Some little trinket that they can wear proudly that says "look how much I trust them, look how much they treasure me."  Ben thought he'd had that, that the man that had swept him up in a dingy club outside New Haven would be the one to give him that.

Well…

Now, leaning heavily on a shopping cart, staring at a wall of overly colorful cards that proclaim 'CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR FIRST CONTRACT' in various colorful fonts he can't help but hope that the second time will be the charm.

"So… are you actually sure about this guy?" Nate asks, shuffling through several of the birthday cards he's selected from across the aisle.

"For the sixth time, yes."

Nate's brow furrows, whether it's because of Ben's tone or because he forgot which obscure relative is the one he needs to buy the card for Ben isn't sure. Probably the former, Ben thinks, Nate hadn't exactly been excited when Ben told him about meeting George. Not that Ben can really blame him too much.

"Come on, Ben. You're getting wooed by an older man you met in a club. Just like last time. I just… I don't know, man. I'm worried."

"It's different this time! Nate, he isn't—"

"Any different. Older guy charms you in a club, you enter a contract, a year later you call Anna in a panic because he's left on business and that only gives you one week to pack everything you own and get the fuck out of dodge! And now—" he shoves the cards back into a random slot and turns toward Ben "—you're doing the same damn thing. I don't want this to be the start of a pattern. That's all. You deserve better."

Ben winces. That phone call and ensuing rush of packing was mostly a blur to him now. The only real clear spot in his memory being when he burnt the contract before leaving. Not something he wants to relive anytime soon. He ducks his head and runs a hand through his hair.

"I don't know what to tell you, Nate. He's different… he is. Can't you just trust me here? I haven't felt like this in—" Ben stops, cutting himself off with a click of teeth. Never. He's never felt like this.

Nate visibly deflates, all the fight leaving him in a rush of air. "Right, m'sorry. So… your first contract is in the works—"

"Technically my first was—"

"Shut the fuck up, that asshole doesn't count. Do you want a card? I can get you that one," Nate says, pointing at a particularly garish card with a sequined cartoon collar.

"No." Ben swings the cart so it knocks against Nate, "just… when I actually sign the contract help me move if he asks me to move in with him."

"Yeah, sure. Help you move if you get the contract."

Ben swallows down the surge of anxiety at "if you get the contract." This was happening. It was. George had said as much at dinner. Instead he lets out a slow breath, watching as Nate grabs a birthday card and random and tosses it in the cart. A cartoon dragon wearing a blue bow stares up at him, a glittery speech bubble proclaiming "You're turning 8!!"

"Isn't the card for your Great-Aunt or Grandma?"

"…Fuck."

* * *

Kneeling at George's feet is everything Ben had hoped for and more. They're in Club Enigma, instead of out on one of the couches they've taken one of the alcoves. The heavy sound dampening curtains pulled closed, blocking out the sounds of the club on the other side and affording them some privacy. Ben's knees sink into the padded floor. George hasn't asked him to do anything but kneel and be quiet, one broad hand cupping his jaw occasionally turning his head this way or that. Eyes half closed, mind and body hovering on the edge of subspace and god, does he feel good. It's been so long since he's gone down properly, since it wasn't because he's reached the threshold of exhaustion where his mind can't go without dropping. It was like some knot that held up all his stress and worries and _everything_ had been tugged loose to let it all fall away to the peripheral.

George tilts his head up and Ben's eyes flutter closed as his thumb traces a line under his chin.

"Exquisite," George murmurs. A shiver of pleasure runs over Ben's skin radiating from the pleasant warmth of George's hand and the light pressure of his thumb. He should be wary, shouldn't he? This is only the second time they've met since that first night. This is the first step towards their contract together. Ben should be wary, should be too nervous to go down.

But it's been so long…

He struggles to open his eyes, even just enough to look at George through his lashes. Should he feel this safe already? George looks so pleased, almost proud of whatever he sees in Ben's face, that it just sends Ben tumbling deeper.

* * *

Anna swirls her straw through her coffee as she eyes Ben from across the table, the ice rattling in the cup as she does. Ben doesn't look up from the muffin he is carefully tearing chunks off to eat methodically. It's better than trying to meet her eye to eye right now, he knows that Nate probably called her about his meeting with George at the club and how Ben was meeting him again and how the contract was going to be happening and how worried  he was. Not that Ben _hadn't_ told her beforehand, of course he had, she was the second person he called. Last thing he wanted to face her older-sister-wrath by her finding out about this from someone that wasn't him. Who knows what Nate told her, though.

"You look good."

Ben just nods absently, that was not what he expected her to say first.

"So about this new Dom—" ah, there we go, "—that you met the other night. I know you told me about him before but you didn't mention that he cornered you in a club."

Oh for the love of— "He did not _corner me_ , he didn't even get up off the couch when he caught my attention. He asked if I got stood up by a date and I decided to take a seat and talk with him for a while! What the hell did Nate tell you?!"

"Is he treating you well?"

"Yes," Ben groans, "he treats me perfectly, we met at a restaurant to go over what we like and what we want out of this contract. We're going to continue meeting at the club for a couple weeks to test the waters before actually signing, George is nothing like _him._ "

Anna nods absently, still eyeing Ben carefully. Probably to catch any lie or see something that will show her that there's something wrong with all of this. Something softens a bit in her eyes after a moment.

"We just don't want you to get hurt again, we're just trying to look out for you."

Ben sighs, going back to poking at his muffin. "Yeah, I get it I do, I just… I don't know."

"How many of these pre-contract scenes have you had by now?"

"Three."

Anna nods again, "I meant it when I said that you look good, you do. You look… happier, I think."

"I almost went down into subspace the other night."

Anna goes still, her eyes widening, _"_ Oh _…_ You said never went- not with- oh, wow Ben."

He can't help the grin that spreads over his face, he'd forgotten what it feels like to go down into subspace. The way everything feels lighter for the next day or so. That should have been his first tip off last time, that some instinctual part of him never felt safe enough to allow him to go down until he reached that breaking point.

"Have you told Nate?"

"Yup," Ben mumbles around a bite of muffin, "and he said that didn't matter."

With a scoff Anna casts her gaze out over the passing cars. "Well that's a load of shit, if you're already dipping down… I'll talk to Nate. He should know better.. Just let us know if something starts to seem off with him, alright?"

"I can do that. You can trust me to do that."

Anna hums, seemingly content with that answer.

* * *

Ben sags heavily in George's arms at first. He's always needed a lot of aftercare, to be held, cuddled, loved after a scene. Even a light scene. That wasn't always well received by…

Well.

So he soaks it all up at first, for as long as he can before over-staying his welcome. He's warm, he's comfortable, this is what he's always wanted out of aftercare. So Ben let's George hold him, tucks his face into the crook of his Dom's neck and just breathes. Let's the weight of strong arms wrapped around him anchor him in reality. He doesn't want to leave the warmth, doesn't want to give George space and force himself to pick up his scattered pieces instead of letting them come back together in their own natural way. He does anyway, bracing himself before slowly pulling away. Trying to ignore that he can almost hear himself cracking apart at the seams.

A hand catches him at the back of his neck and Ben freezes.

"Look at me, Benjamin."

Ben obeys, heart beating at a rabbit's pace as he does. Eyes searching George's face for whatever might have displeased him. Ben doesn't find displeasure, but concern, maybe some confusion.

"Are you sure you've had enough?" George asks, voice low and careful.

Ben presses back against the hand holding his neck and just as quickly as it came it's gone. Instead moving to hold his wrist loosely, George's thumb rubbing a circle over his pulse point. No pressure. Ben could fake it if he wanted, continue to insist that Yes This Is Really Enough and He'll Be Fine Really that he's told every other Dom before going to lick his wounds. That he learned to do.

"He would want space, that's what I- what he- that's what I learned." The whisper is softer than a breath. A mere wisp of a sentence. There's a quicksilver flash in George's eyes, Ben thinks he sees anger.

"He was wrong."

Ben starts shaking at George's proclamation. At the certainty in his tone. At the idea that there is more he's probably doing wrong because he was trained wrong but he _can't help that_ and he doesn't know how to fix it or—

The hand is back on his neck, cutting off his thoughts with a razor's edge. Ben only shakes more at the sudden weight, his resolve crumbling like brittle stone under a wave. George's thumb presses behind his ear and Ben lets out a small whine.

"Do not cut your aftercare short because you think that's what I want. What I want is for you to feel safe and cared for, even if it takes hours for you to reach that. I will do whatever I have to ensure that you feel good at the end of every scene."

Ben's breath hitches and without thinking he slumps against George. Sighs as his Dom holds him close and slides a hand under his shirt to rub his back slowly. Ben tucks his face back into the crook of his neck and mumbles an apology. He shouldn't have assumed, the jagged edges that are smoothed down with each pass of George's hand over his spine confirms that. George only hushes him and bundles him closer, lets the pieces find their proper place in their own time.

* * *

"I know he's concerned but it's starting to get annoying. I'm pretty sure he wants me to text him whenever I get home? Like he's my mother, which is also hilarious."

Caleb's laugh is tinny and crackles over the weak Skype connection. His boat is docked somewhere in Alaska for a little while, giving him time to have a few proper conversations with Ben. It's soothing, for as much as Ben loves Nate and Anna they aren't _Caleb_. They just don't know him like Caleb does.

"I don't know what he’s so worried about. You look a whole lot better. Or it's the pixels, what do I know."

"Anna said that too."

"Well then what's the issue? You're still talking to us, which that ass curbed from the damn start if I remember correctly. And you said he's the one that insisted you guys go slow at first," Caleb says in a rush, words tripping over the static on their way to Ben. "You don't want to repeat any of _that_ , I know you don't. Besides if he even tries to pull what that ass did I'll fucking swim back there to kick his ass."

Ben can't stop himself from laughing at the image of a waterlogged Caleb clawing his way out of the bay in anger. He doesn't _really_ doubt that the man would do it too. Caleb had hardly left Ben's side in the whirlwind of packing, occasionally suggesting they could just torch the place when they got all of Ben's stuff out.

"Besides I trust you."

Ben's laugh stutters to a stop.

"What's with that look, Tallboy?"

"I just- what look?"

"That—" Caleb waves a hand at the screen "—fucking whatever look on your face. All shocked. Cut it out. I trust you to know what the fuck you're doing, you know what to look for this time. So you had a contract with one dickbag, that doesn't mean that it's going to be a pattern no matter what and just going by that sappy face you make when talking about the guy I think you're doing okay."

"Thanks," Ben mumbles, ducking his head. Even so many miles away…

"So the real question is this: he's gotta have a great dick, right?"

Caleb was still Caleb. Laughing his ass off while Ben turned scarlet.


	4. Countdown 3... 2...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tiny tags added, mostly for hair pulling

"You don't like having your hair pulled?"

They're in one of the alcoves at Enigma, the benches along each wall are divided in half by an armrest. Ben's leaning on one, arms folded while George rubs small circles with his fingertips into Ben's scalp. He hums, just enjoying the sensation before cracking one eye to look at the other man.

"No, or… well at least I don't think so? My old Dom never really bothered to and when he did it just hurt, I didn't like the way it felt."

There's that flash, the one that goes through George's eyes whenever Ben mentions his old Dom, the one that Ben can never quite catch but imagines it looks… protective? Displeased? Angry? And yet Ben never finds himself unsettled by it.

"He might have been doing it wrong."

Ben chuckles, "What? There's a correct way to pull hair?"

"Of course there is, sweet thing. Mind if I show you?"

Ben shivers at the name, the little pet names have been popping up more and more with each meeting. With each scene. George has pulled his hand away, probably to give Ben the time and space to reorient himself and think over the suggestion. He wasn't kidding when he said that he hadn't liked it before. The idea was nice but the sharp, painful sting that happened whenever he yanked it was not enjoyable… but if there was a "correct" way…

"Yeah, sure."

A cocked brow, silent disapproval.

"Yes, sir, please."

George smirks, "Good boy. Now, I'm going out on a bit of a limb here but your old Dom just grabbed and pulled?"

"Yes, sir," Ben mumbles. He's a little distracted by George's hand slipping back in his hair, carefully working out knots and snags. George moves his hand so his palm is flat against the back of Ben's skull.

"No, see the proper way is like this," and the hand at the back of his head makes a fist. Ben's head is tugged back by the force and  _ oh oh oh. _ He couldn't hold back his gasp if he tried and he doesn't want to, his hands twist into the plush leather of the armrest. It's only for a moment, then George let's go, hand smoothing out the disturbed strands while Ben tries to hold back the noise of discontentment. Then he does it again, palm smoothing flat against Ben's skull before clenching into a fist, and again and again. By the fourth time Ben is moaning outright, whimpering in discontent every time George loosens his grip. That sweet dull thrum of pain under the pressure mixing into something wholly wonderful. Another fist made, another time loosened and Ben whines pitifully, leaning all his weight on the armrest at this point. He's sure that if George keeps up this game he'll go insane.

"See? You like this just fine when done right, sweet boy."

Ben nods frantically against the hand in his hair, "yessir, pleassir, please."

"Please what? Come on, use your words."

"More, sir, please more."

George chuckles, "well since you asked so nicely." He pulls Ben's hair again, this time using the grip to pull Ben over the armrest and into his lap, then to tilt the sub's head back once he's in place so George can take to marking his slender neck. Bruising biting kisses leading a trail of fire to Ben's very core, dragging throaty moans and high pitched whines out of him as he shakes in his Dom's grip. He doesn't even register when George relaxes his grip anymore. When his hips start jerking sporadically, searching for any small bit of friction, George  _ yanks  _ Ben's head down closer.

"Keep still," he growls.

Ben tries to gasp out an apology, but he's not sure he succeeds. There is a pleased chuckle in his ear as his hips stutter to a halt, a rumbled  _ good boy _ accompanied by soothing caresses against his scalp followed by a quick tug. Ben shivers as George tilts his head back to continue the assault in his neck. The hand not tangled in Ben's hair settles on his lower back, slipping under Ben's shirt and pressing him closer. George must be able to feel everything. His aching cock straining against his jeans, every flex of his thighs, every tremble when the effort to keep his hips still almost becomes too much. The same way Ben can feel each pleased growl and rumbling chuckle George let's loose against his throat, each tug in his hair to draw out some new noise from Ben. High whines and breathy moans. Ben loses track of time, everything becoming a blur of pleasure and heat. Blooming out from each point of contact between them to buzz under his skin.

"Want more, sweet thing?"

Ben nods against the hand in his hair, hands twisting in George's shirtsleeves. Then George tugs his head up, holds him away nearly at arms length and Ben finds himself keening at the loss of warmth.

"Words, Benjamin."

Words? Right, words. Answer. Yes. "Yessirplease."

His pause must be too long, because George's lips twitch into what might be a frown. "Benjamin, what's your color?" George asks before the ball of panic in Ben's gut can't take solid form.

"Green, green," the words break around a moan, "Please, I want more sir, please."

The maybe-frown eases. "You'll have to work for it."

"Please, sir."

George chuckles, adjusts Ben until he's straddling one thigh. The hand in Ben's hair loosening its grip to rub soothingly against his scalp. "Then get to it, sweet boy," he says with another quick tug at Ben's hair. And Ben falls forward, burying his face in George's neck with a groan as he rolls his hips. His motions slow and tentative as his confidence builds until he's shamelessly grinding in George's lap. His skin buzzing from the warmth of George's hand on his thigh and waist, placed there to keep him steady. His mind has gone blurry with need and desperation and the seconds seem to turn to hours as they tick by.

"Come for me, Benjamin," is growled into his ear, accompanied by a tug to his hair, and Ben does. With a moan loud enough to be heard through the sound-dampening curtains. Ben can't bring himself to care about as he shudders through his orgasm. His release sending him staggering into the shallows of subspace to float.

He's vaguely aware of being cleaned up and maneuvered into a more comfortable position on George's lap. A hand carding carefully through his hair to work out all the snags and knots that had accumulated. Ben's not sure how long he floats. When he comes back to himself he's curled against George, head resting on his Dom's chest as he cards his hands through Ben's hair.

"Back with me?" The question rumble through George's chest and Ben kind of just want to lay here all day and listen to him talk. He nods against his chest, humming an affirmative. Glad for the stripped formality in George's aftercare.

"Color?"

"Green," he mumbles, letting his eyes fall closed.

George chuckles, causing Ben to let out a pleased noise as he can feel George working out a particularly nasty feeling knot. He says something about brushing Ben's hair out after scenes that draws out another pleased noise. Ben's content to just sit there and soak up the affection for a while.

"Thank you."

He hums as he presses a kiss into Ben's hair, "what for?"

"Not, um," Ben waves his hand in a circle as if to draw the words out of the air, "not being so picky about the rules during this. Aftercare. M'sorry my brain is everywhere."

George fishes a water bottle out of a compartment hidden under the armrest Ben had been hauled over earlier. Uncapping it before handing it over to his sub. "That's exactly why, as long as you get your point across it's fine. Especially since there's always the chance that a scene may be intense enough for you to go non-verbal."

Ben nods, sipping at the water and trying not to think about differences.

* * *

Ben is the one to arrive first at their penultimate meeting. For the past two weeks he's always been the second to arrive, to greet the bartender and be directed to an alcove, private room, or to see George on a couch already waiting. He stands for a moment unsure, nerves slowly creeping up on him, before the bartender waves him to a stool and hands him a drink.

"If I know George, and I do, his business just kept him over. Give him a few and he'll be right in. He takes too long and I'll call him up myself to rake him over the coals."

"You know George?" he asks as he slides onto the stool.

She nods, wiping her hands with a spare cloth before tossing it into a nearby sink, leaning across from Ben against the back of the bar. For a moment he feels like he's being sized up. She's maybe a few years younger than George, with long dark hair and a serious face.

"Yeah, met him when he and Greene and couple others looked around our community and decided that we could be better than what we were. Used to be very do what you want without a drop of Safe, Sane, And Consensual in sight. He really took initiative in fixing shit."

"That's uh… what I heard, I didn't grow up here and the community back home might as well have been the church group too," he says with a shrug.

It earns a laugh from the woman, "oh wow, small town? I've heard that small town communities weren't expansive but I always thought it was like, exaggerated."

"Yeah. The worst is that rigs in the club weren't replaced until they're falling apart. It was a horrible realization in high school that if we don't all travel we'll be in the same club using the same rigs and toys that our parents and grandparents probably did."

The woman visibly shudders at that, shoving away from the counter to pace a couple quick circles before coming back to Ben. "No, no, you are lying to me. You have to be."

"My parents actually told me that it was where they learned all they knew when I mentioned I was excited," he says. Using the glass the hide his smirk when she shudders again. It was one of the main reasons he applied to Yale and waited until he was in the college scene before branching out into a community. The reason he moved to the same place his friends did when he graduated. Probably the reason that Caleb was out on a boat somewhere in the pacific. They continue to chat for a while, about his time at school, her time helping George fix the community, more horrors about small town communities. When the forty-five minute mark hits and he's still waiting his nerves have crawled into his throat and are slowly expanding, even as the bartender (how has not gotten her name? Fuck, that is so rude he should have asked, he should—) digs out her phone and calls George before he can even think to. Reaching out to hold his wrist in a light grip and assuring him that "it's fine, honey, just take a breath, he'll be here" in a low and quiet voice. Dom, she's a Dom, his mind quietly supplies as he takes a couple deep breaths.

Just as she puts the phone to her ear there's the sound of a distant siren and a ringing phone as the door swings open, a burst of chilly evening air following George into the club. Familiar small bag hanging from one shoulder, tie gone, jacket buttons undone and a little windswept but he's here. He's here. Ben sighs as his nerves recede, distantly he's aware of the bartender grumbling something under her breath as George drops his bag onto the stool next to Ben and reaches to run a comforting hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry for being late. I should have let you know."

Ben just nods absently. Just glad that the little voice muttering  _ he's backing out because you weren't good enough _ grows quieter and quieter with each pass of George's hand through his hair. The anxieties that had popped up like weeds withering away. The barkeep has her own ideas apparently.

"Christ, George, a simple text wouldn’t have killed you."

"Deborah—"

"Don't you 'Deborah" me! Leaving a new sub to wait like this, without a word, is a dick move. And you know it."

Ben tries not to feel like a kid stuck between two arguing parents. It doesn't really work. The entire feeling is only aided by Deborah standing with her arms crossed and radiating disapproval as she stares George down.  George meets it with neutrality, unaffected by Deborah's glare, or at least it seems that way to Ben. She raises her eyebrows, something meaningful in her look that Ben can't quite place before turning to him with a wide smile.

"Congratulations on the contract, kid. You're in good hands, even if they were late today," she says. And with a single nod towards George she walks off around to the other side of the bar.

Ben looks at George in confusion but his Dom merely sighs. The hand carding through his hair coming to rest at the back of his neck. "She's protective of any sub that comes into her club. Always has been, I admire that," he says as he guides Ben off the stool. The alcove George leads him to is much the same as every other in the club. Thick padding on the floor for subs to kneel on, plush seats, warm lighting. This one comes with the addition of a small table set at the back. George settles himself in the corner by the table and Ben kneels in front of him, hands on his knees and back straight, posture perfect. It’s an older, more traditional pose, but also the only one that Ben can hold for longer than ten minutes. George gives him an amused look as he pulls his glasses off, runs a hand through Ben's hair. He's never explicitly stated that he wants Ben to kneel for him automatically but Ben can't help it.

"I don't think this is going to be one of those nights, my good boy," he says.

"Sir?"

"Nothing bad, I just want to go over a couple things. A few questions I want cleared up before we sign the contract. You do still want to sign right?"

Ben nods vigorously, "Yes, I can't… I don't even know how to tell you how much I'm looking forward to this."

There another of those small, not-quite smiles that makes warmth bloom throughout Ben. George is a fairly stoic man, Ben has found. Not someone who smiles widely or freely outside of a scene, where he will easily dole out affection and praise whenever Ben does something right. It's these moments Ben has come to look forward to, that he takes the most pride in.

"Good, I need to know whether you intend to move in or if you want to stay at your own apartment for the duration of our contract. I prefer my subs live in house with me but I understand the need for space, and I can promise that you'll have that under my roof."

Honestly Ben should earn an academy award for keeping himself under control. "I want to move in," he says as he shifts a bit, "I… my apartment is lonely and it… I wouldn't mind getting out of it." Something like concern passes over George's face and he moves his hand to cup Ben's chin.

"Then you're more than welcome, I have no deadline on how quickly you have to get moved in, that's entirely up to you." There a few more innocuous enough questions after that. Does he like dogs? Yes. Good. Will he need a storage unit for any of his things? Ben isn't sure. It's fine, George has one on standby if that's the case. The entire time he keeps a hands slowly petting through Ben's hair and it takes everything Ben has not to close his eyes and rest his head against George's knee and let himself drift. He seems to like Ben's hair, a lot. Ben hasn't actually  _ asked _ George if he likes his hair, but he pays so much attention to it.

"Is there anything you prefer in your aftercare?"

Ben hums, thinking for a moment, "why do you ask?"

"There's only so much I can do for you after a scene here, at home I'll be able to do more. So if there's anything that you particularly enjoy I would like to see if I can incorporate it."

"Baths," it falls out of Ben's mouth George can even finish his sentence. Mortification seizes Ben's stomach in a vice but before he can even open his mouth to apologize George chuckles.

"That's all?" he says, leaning forward. One hand moving to cup Ben's jaw while the other settles at the back of his head, tangled in his hair. Ben's eyes go wide at the same time his mind goes still and clear, like a lake on a calm night, the mortification from a moment ago disappearing. Something in George's entire presence mesmerizing him. His lips ghost over Ben's forehead.

"Then I think we'll do just fine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ hmu on the tumbles](http://comp-lady.tumblr.com)


	5. Call It Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The contract from the Levi/Armin/Eren fic entitled [Tentative Bliss](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131646/chapters/2286009) posed a huge inspiration and guideline for the contract. Go read it, it is amaze-balls
> 
> also yeah the contract it the reason for the giant word count jump, but I felt posting it in it's entirety will be... enlightening in future chapters.

This time Ben arrives early on purpose. He'd spent the entire day before running around his apartment in a packing frenzy, dragging Nate to the 24/7 store on the edge of town at 3am to grab boxes from the midnight stockers. They were mainly just for his clothes, everything else he owned was still mostly half packed still.Only his books spilling out of boxes in his living room. The flurry and rush of packing and seeing what he might bring with him and what might need to go into storage isn't enough to calm his jittering nerves. So when he gets a text from George telling him to meet in the same alcove as last time Ben doesn't hesitate to get ready and leave. Heading straight for the club and the destined meeting spot.

Deborah nods at him as he walks past, knowing smile on her lips.

From that moment on it becomes the most intense waiting game of his life. He tries to pass the time by examining the alcove at first. Squirreling out all the hidden holds and loops for restraints, the semi-hidden compartment above the table stocked with chilled water bottles and snacks for aftercare. Once all of the restraint holds are tucked away and he's downed half a bottle of water and eaten half a sleeve of crackers he tries texting his friends. Anna doesn't answer (likely busy with work) and neither does Caleb (probably in the middle of the ocean) but Nate is happy to start teasing him with a gusto before having to go back to his own work. It leaves Ben alone to mess with his phone and slouch into the soft cushions.

Would George want him to be kneeling when he arrives? He's never actually specifies what he prefers. He's never scolded Ben for sitting on the same level or next to him. Will that change after he signs the contract? Ben wishes he knew the answer to that. George doesn't seems the type to suddenly change the rules, and so far he  _ hasn't _ suddenly changed the rules on Ben.

Before Ben can debate himself further the curtain swings to the side to reveal George. Looking as well put together as he always does. Sharp suit and expensive bag, not a thread out of place, as has been the norm the past two weeks. It strikes Ben, even as he sits up straighter at George's presence, that he wants to see the man casual. Properly. Wants to see him warm from sleep, in jeans and a t-shirt, at leisure in a way that he never really achieves in the club. He can feel his cheeks color pink at the thought as George greets him.

"Benjamin." Short and sincere, for some reason it only makes Ben flush all the more.

"Hello, sir," he replies with a small smile.

"I trust you've been patient, I know this is a bit of an important day."

Ben mumbles an affirmative, carefully not thinking about how he had nearly been crawling the walls while searching the booth just a short while earlier. Pays more attention to the warmth blooming through him at the amused glance George gives him. How all of the expression is in the eyes and the oh so small quirk of the lips.

He sits opposite Ben, motioning for him to scoot over so the table is between them. "There's a lot of etiquette and negotiation that has already been handled these past two weeks I think," he says as he pulls out a small stack of papers from his bag. Held together by a paperclip in the top left hand corner and covered in small text. It's another moment where it's hard for Ben not to draw up the differences and hold them side by side, to desperately try not to mentally compare the single page of a contract that Benedict had presented him with to this. Ben carefully reaches out and reverently touches just the edges of the papers.

"I can print more, in case there are any changes you wish to make before we sign. As it stands though, because this is a lifestyle contract that we are entering, I want to be sure that you know what is expected from you and what you can expect from me in no uncertain terms. This is a long read. Most likely a boring one too, but necessary. This is a moment where we need to be as thorough as possible, I've seen a lot of mistakes in this community that has only cropped up from a lack of communication."

George pushes the contract towards Ben, who takes it with trembling fingers.

"Read it all, Benjamin. Take your time and if you have any questions just ask, I don't want any needless misunderstandings to arise. It's important you know what you're getting into."

Ben nods, struck dumb by all of it, not trusting himself not to say something stupid. He settles in for the long read.

**_The Contract_ **

_ The contract is to establish the rules and guidelines for a lifestyle agreement between  _ _ George Washington _ _ and _______________. For a currently indeterminate amount of time. This contract is signed willingly and voluntarily by both parties agreeing to the conditions stated below. This contract is not legally binding. _

_ This contract is written for guidance, betterment, and benefits of a lifestyle agreement, as well as seeking to ensure the safety and understanding of the Dom and sub themselves individually. _

_ A mandatory review of the contract must be enacted by all involved parties at the end of each month for its duration. Either party may initiate a review of the contract at any time if they believe it is warranted. _

**_The Relationship_ **

_ The relationship outlined in this document is live in and as such this document will seek to outline aspects of the relationship within those parameters. _

_ The sub is the one who gives consent for the Dom to do as he wishes to them. They wish to maximize their Dom's pleasure, happiness, and well-being. _

_ The Dom is the one who brings order, control, and safety through dominance. His goal is to help his partner find and achieve pleasure through their submission. _

_ Obedience to the Dom is ideal. However the health and safety (both physically and psychologically) of all parties supersedes all. Both parties acknowledge that disobedience is necessary at times to maintain that health and safety. _

_ The chosen upon safeword method for this agreement is the 'colors' method, use of a safeword trumps all authority. _

_ "Green" means that everything is fine. The act(s) may continue. _

_ "Yellow" means that everything must come to a pause. Something is wrong. _

_ "Red" is the emergency exit and stop. When called, consent is removed and the scene ended unless the "red" party specifies otherwise. _

_ Any violation or misuse of the safewords is cause for an immediate termination of the contract and agreement. _

**_State of the Contract_ **

_ The contract may broken and ended at the will of either party at any time. There is no need for a specific reason nor does the reason have to be given at the time of termination or afterwards. _

_ This contract is a living document. However in order for any change to be enacted the contract must be suspended by mutual agreement so both parties may draft any applicable changes. The newly changed contract may have the same end-date as the original contract did, or a different one _

Ben blinks down at the papers, "Uh, if I am reading this right then in order to make any changes to the contract we need to... put it on pause... first? What made you decide on that?"

"I want us to be on equal ground whenever present during the drafting and signing of any contract. Our natural dispositions will be hard enough to work against as it is without the specter of a contract looming over us when negotiating." George rests his arms on the table, hands clasped together, "I want everything in this contract to be your choice, not something I forced upon you."

Warmth blooms through Ben's chest as he mulls over it. After a short deliberation he nods to himself and continues to read.

**_Correction, Punishment, and Reward_ **

_ Correction: It is to be assumed that any task done by the sub is done to the best of their ability at all times. Therefore, if any task is failed, it is to be initially assumed that the failure is not intentional and that the failure itself was due to a lack of understanding or miscommunication. It is the Dom's job to help the sub see what it is that they are doing wrong. A correction can be a verbal remark, paired with either words of encouragement or threats of disappointment depending on the context and situation of individual occurrences. For small corrections, it may also be accompanied by a quick swat. For larger corrections, it may be accompanied by a concise lecture and/or swat. _

_ Punishment: Punishment is not the same as correction. Where corrections are for occasional and unintentional failures, punishments are for failures that are done on purpose, repeatedly, even after correction, or are severe. Punishment will not be a pleasurable activity. If the Dom or sub finds a punishment pleasurable then both will be more willing to dole them out or engage in activities to prompt them, respectively. This can lead to an unsafe and unhealthy dynamic. It is for that reason that punishment cannot be enjoyed by either party. Possible punishments include: being forced to stand or kneel in the corner, more tasks or work, being assigned to sleep alone for the night, or anything else the Dom finds suitable. Punishments and the reason for them are to be discussed before being enacted. _

_ Rewards: As unruly subs are punished, good ones are rewarded. To complete a complicated task, successfully engage in a complicated or difficult scene,  or have a good record of excellence is worthy of a reward. Rewards can include jewelry, trinkets, a night out or alone, a dinner date, free time, or a possible request of any kind. _

**_Limitations of the Contract_ **

_ All actions by the sub are limited to safewords and any hard limits set by the Dom. _

_ All actions by the Dom are limited to safewords and any hard limits set by the sub. _

_ At no point may the Dom inflict any serious damage or permanent bodily harm to the sub. This includes any act which draws blood, causes a loss of circulation or consciousness, and cutting or pulling the sub's hair without permission. The Dom is to avoid marking the sub in visible locations outside of normal public or work clothing (this does not include bathing suits, unless the sub is a lifeguard or similar) without permission from the sub. _

_ In terms of administering pain, it is to be discussed prior to each scene in this contact. _

_ No humiliation (physical or verbal) is allowed in this contact. _

**_The Roles and Expectations of the Submissive_ **

_ A submissive is inclined to seek fulfillment and safety through submission. They willingly give power over themselves to a Dom and seek to please the Dom. They can, within the parameters of a contract, expect to be subjected to acts of servitude, in all forms. The sub agrees to submit to the Dom's every desire, and trust him to ensure their safety. The sub will keep themselves ready for the Dom at all times. _

_ The sub is expected to have presented the Dom with a list of their likes, dislikes, soft limits, hard limits, and an explanation of their experiences before signing this contract. The sub is expected to be willing to explore and expand upon those limits, but is not expected to go beyond them without given consent. Any dishonesty pertaining to that information is grounds for a termination of the contract. _

_ The sub shall follow rules, rituals and guidelines as established by the Dom, with the understanding that breaking a rule, ritual or guideline could lead to some form of punishment as dictated by the Dom. _

_ The relationship pertaining to this contract is a monogamous one between one Dom and sub. However the submissive is allowed to have sexual relations with those that the Dom knows of within set episodic scenes, such as at a club or event. Should the sub break this rule and have sex with anyone without informing the Dom prior, they must do so as soon as able. Should the sub have unprotected sex without alerting the Dom, they are to immediately inform the Dom and be tested for any sexually transmitted diseases/infections. _

_ The sub is free to pursue paid occupation, volunteer work/jobs, and education. They are entitled to any and all time needed or those events, as well as all of their salary. The Dom will not do anything to impede these pursuits. _

_ If the contract is terminated and there are no plans to draft a new one, the sub can expect the Dom to house them for a minimum of 30 days if they have nowhere else to go. The sub may request help finding a place from the Dom. The Dom will comply. _

**_Submissive’s Proclamations._ **

_ I, __________________, of my free will, affirm that I am willingly giving myself and my trust to  _ _ George Washington _ _. My signature at the end of this contract signifies my full acceptance and participation of this agreement. _

_ As I am his, upon the signing of this document, I vow to submit myself for his pleasure, well-being, and enjoyment with the knowledge that he will ensure my own pleasure, well-being, and enjoyment. _

_ I vow to keep myself physically ready for him at all times. All body hair will be kept in order and neat to my preferences, pubic hair trimmed at the minimum, and I will maintain all personal hygiene. I vow to keep myself mentally ready for him at all times, willing to learn how to better and adjust my knowledge and training for his enjoyment. I will not allow negative emotions or fears to build up and understand that I may confide any worries, fears, or problems in him. _

_ I vow to call him "sir" during a scene, outside of any scenes I am to call him whatever I prefer. _

_ I vow to attempt any order or task he gives to the best of my abilities. _

_ I vow to be honest at all times, as dishonesty inhibits any ability to maintain trust and safety in the relationship. _

_ I vow to be thankful for his patience and guidance. I will accept his corrections, listen to his criticism, and accept his punishments. They are to better me in my training, should I feel they are disrespectful or do not better my training I am to express those concerns. _

_ I vow to never use a safeword without cause or meaning, and always when necessary. _

_ I vow to respect the safewords of my dom. _

_ I understand and accept that a violation of the safeword means the immediate termination of the contract. _

_ I understand that any time I need for work, volunteering, education, or family will be granted by my Dom and that he will be understanding. _

_ I understand that if I have any concerns of any nature my Dom wishes to hear them. I understand that I may express myself openly and freely at any time, with no punishments given. _

_ I understand that I have the right to cry, scream, or beg in both pleasure and/or pain, but accept the fact that my Dom may choose to ignore them. Further, I accept that if my Dom tires of my noises he may demand my silence. I trust that he will not gag me. _

Ben has to take several deep breaths at the line _ "will not gag me." _ A little overwhelmed that George remembered that.  It was something he had mentioned offhand during that very first night. When George had taken a break in the conversation to admire the ball gag on a passing sub. Ben hadn't been able to stop himself from blurting out that gags made him uneasy, to be unable to say anything by physical force. The amount of raw  _ care _ that has obviously been put into this contract is a little overwhelming.

"Benjamin?"

He glances up to see George's concerned look.

"Something that troubles you?"

"No, no, no, it's just—" Ben runs a hand through his hair roughly "— I just didn't expect this much care to be put into it. It…. It wasn't like this last time."

George's brow furrows, fingers flexing against each other and his knuckles going white for just a moment before relaxing as his expression smooths out. "I want this to be the best that we can make it, for both of us. Keep reading"

Ben does as he's told.

**_The Role and Expectations of the Dominant_ **

_ A Dominant is inclined to seek fulfillment and satisfaction through domination. They take the role of owning and caring for the sub. The Dom wishes to help the sub, within the parameters of a contract, find pleasure in their submission, and correct the attitudes and habits of the sub so that they may better work in harmony. It is their duty to correct fault in a sub, punish deliberate disobedience in a sub, and reward a behaving and deserving sub. _

_ The Dom is expected to have presented the sub with a list of his likes, dislikes, soft limits, hard limits, and explanation of his experiences before signing this contract. The Dom is expected to have received the same information from the sub, and to keep it mind at all times for the duration of the contract. The Dom is expected to be willing to aid the sub in exploring and expanding upon those limits, but is not expected to push the sub beyond them without given consent. Any dishonesty pertaining to that information is grounds for a termination of the contract. _

_ The Dom will establish rules, rituals and guidelines for the sub to follow, with the understanding that, while it is his responsibility to enforce them, he must be reasonable in any punishment or correction given and listen and accept criticism given by the sub pertaining to them. _

_ The Dom will have no sexual relations with anyone outside of the relationship. Should he break this rule and have sex with anyone outside of the relationship, he must inform the sub. Should the Dom have unprotected sex with anyone outside of the relationship, he is to immediately inform the sub and be tested for any sexually transmitted disease/infections. _

"This… doesn't apply to me?" Ben wonders out loud as he flips back a couple pages to double check.

"What doesn’t?"

Ben taps the page, "This, I can have sex with someone outside of the contract that you approve of but you can’t."

"This is our first contract together, and for at least the first month or so my attention should be focused on you. It's possible that we may enter a scene in which you'll want to be with another person, I'm just keeping the option open to you if you want it. It can always be changed at a later time with a new contract."

_ For the safety of his sub, the Dom may not engage in any scenes or sexual activity while intoxicated or under any similar mind-altering substance, nor will he be allowed to engage in any activity that may be dangerous for his partner during that time due to intoxication. _

_ If the contract is terminated and there are no plans to draft a new one, the Dom must offer them a minimum of 30 days of food and shelter if they have nowhere else to go. Should the sub request help finding a place from the Dom, the Dom will comply. _

**_Dominant’s Proclamations_ **

_ I,  _ _ George Washington _ _ , of my free will, agree, swear, and affirm that I am taking __________________'s self and trust under my care as their Dom. My signature at the end of this contract signifies my full acceptance and participation of this agreement. _

_ I vow to take responsibility of them, and secure all of their needs. This includes food, water, shelter, as well as emotional support, direction, and guidance. I will welcome my sub in confiding their fears, worries, and problems with me. I will ensure their mental well being by ensuring they reach subspace whenever needed. I vow to enrich their life and keep them safe through my domination. _

_ I vow to establish and keep a set of rules that are easy to understand and keep, I will take into account any limitations or disabilities my sub has when establishing these rules. I understand that any failure may come from a miscommunication error on my part. _

_ I shall use my sub's body as I wish, within the limits and parameters set within this contract. _

_ I vow to be honest at all times, as dishonesty inhibits any ability to maintain trust and safety in the relationship. _

_ I will undertake the task to alter my sub's training best suit my liking. I will be responsible with this training. I will not discipline them for foolish or nonsensical reasons, only when it is necessary so that they bettered in their training, should they feel any disciplines or corrections are disrespectful or do not better their training they are to express those concerns and I am to listen and take them to heart. _

_ While my sub my most prized possession, they are not an object to me. I will treat them honorably and respectfully, and I will treat their body honorably and respectfully. _

_ At my discretion, I may administer pleasure or pain at any time, within the limits set by this contract. If I tire of any noises they make I may demand silence, but may never gag them. _

_ I vow to never use a safeword meaninglessly. _

_ I vow to use a safeword when necessary. _

_ I vow to respect the safe words of my sub. _

_ I understand that violation of the safeword means immediate termination of the contract. _

_ I understand that if my sub needs time off for work, volunteering, education, or to visit family, that I must work with them to allow this. _

_ If my sub has any concerns of any nature I wish to hear them. I will listen to my sub whenever they choose to express themselves openly and freely, with no punishment. _

**_Signatures_ **

_ The submissive: _

_ I have read everything and fully understand this Contract. I agree to give my safety and trust to my Dom, and accept his claim over me. I will accept all corrections, punishments and rewards. I will be true to my promise and do my best to fulfill his wishes, to further his pleasure. _

_ I understand I am able to withdraw from this contract at any time. _

_ Sub’s signature: ______________________________________ _

_ The Dominant: _

_ I have read everything and fully understand this contract. I agree to accept this sub as my own and to care for them to the best of my ability. I shall provide him with security, food, shelter, and all emotional and psychological needs. I understand their safety, trust, and being is responsibility and will have no harm come to my sub as long as they are mine. _

_ I understand I am able to withdraw from this Contract at any time. _

_ Dom's signature: _____________________________________ _

Ben let out a long breath once he reached the end, then flipped back to the front and read it again, making sure that he read everything correctly. And then again a third time. It was a lot, and so much of it was unexpected. He wanted to be sure that he properly absorbed it before signing. George sat across from him, hands folded together, patiently watching. Ben could feel his eyes on him, wondered if George could see the minute tremble in his hands as he turned the pages.

Finally he nods. "This looks great, perfect," he sighs, excitement fluttering in his gut like a dozen hummingbirds.

"Good," George nods, "do you have any injuries that I should know of? Bad back or joints? Any medications you're taking?"

Ben shakes his head, "no, sir."

"Any recreational drug usage?"

Another shake of the head, "no, sir. That would have been in the blood test anyway right?"

"True, and you're fine with no definite end date for this contract?" he asks, taking up the contract and flipping to the last page.

"Yeah, we have to review it at the end of each month anyway. I figure that will be good enough."

George nods, and signs the last page, before flipping back to the first page and sliding it back across the table to Ben. "Fill your name in the spaces and sign, when we're at the house I'll make copies so you can have your own hard copy. Did you drive here or walk?"

"Um, walked, I don't have a car. I don’t live far away," Ben mumbles, carefully filling in his name. Desperately trying to quell the way his hand shakes. With the curve of his signature it's signed, and Ben knows that he's starting something new and amazing. George picks up the contract, tucking it away in his bag before standing.

"You've already packed necessities, I assume, in which case we'll stop by your apartment and pick up what you need. Then head straight home." He handed Ben his phone, the screen opened to the maps app. "Here, punch in your address."

The hummingbirds in Ben's stomach seemed to double their wing beats as Ben stands, all he could do was nod and mumble out a quiet affirmative as he poked at the touchscreen before handing it back. The moment the phone is back in his hands George is guiding him out of the club with a hand at the small of Ben's back.

Ben is not an expert on cars but he knows with barely a glance that George's car is fucking expensive. Sleek and silver with a butter smooth leather interior, impeccably clean. For the first time since meeting George Ben feels completely out of depth and place with him. He knew that George was rich in an abstract sense, but to see it in a form that wasn't an nice suit was a little daunting. It only serves to make him hyper aware of the fact that his basement apartment is in a shitty building in an equally shitty neighborhood when they pull up. He leads George down the stairs, fumbles with his keys when he goes to unlock to the door, and tries to tamp down on the shame that wells up through him as they step through the door. His apartment is small and stark. It was like that even before he had started packing. Bare off-white walls and threadbare carpeting. He dares a glance at George and isn't surprised when he can't read his expression as the taller man surveys the apartment.

"Um, I have most of my clothes packed and stuff, really all that's left is the furniture and kitchen stuff. I, uh, I think that's all that's going to have to be packed up in storage." He shifts awkwardly from foot to foot.

George glances around the room before his eyes fall back on Ben. "You packed all this up in day?"

Oh… shit, Ben realizes that it must look like some sort of amazing feat. His books, knickknacks and toiletries are all neatly packed away in the boxes he has been living out of since he moved in. Unable to conjure the energy to fully unpack for the last year and half or so. "Ah… no, most of this was still packed up from when I moved in."

"I see," and Ben imagines he can, is connecting whatever dots he sees.

"So I'll uh, I'll just go get my clothes and—" he mutters, trying to slide back towards the bedroom, eyes on the carpet. Before he can get too far George is in his space and there's a hand on his chin carefully guiding it up. The kiss is light and sweet, prompting a small noise of surprise from Ben before he melts against George. He pulls back just enough to press a kiss against Ben's forehead, then another into Ben's hair when he buries his face against George's chest. They stand like that for a moment, in the quiet and surrounded by the boxes that had been watching over the sub for the past year.

When they pull apart George takes Ben's face in his hands, thumbs gently wiping away the tears that had gathered in his eyes. "Lets fit as much as we can in the car, the fewer the trips back here the better I think," he says.

Ben nods and for the next hour they pack as much as they can in George's car. Until both the trunk and back seat are full, George waving away Ben's concerns over the leather upholstery before he can even fully voice them. Once that's done he helps Ben pack up the handful of things left over from his day long packing spree, separating out what will go into storage and what will be moved into the house. Then they are done back on the road, winding through the busy center of town to the residential outskirts, into the gated neighborhood and up to a surprisingly small house.

As they pull into the driveway Ben can see that the backyard is fenced in, the house is a simple two story affair in pale wood siding and stone. "I'll give you a tour before we move all your things in, if that's okay," George says, as he guides Ben up the two steps to the porch and punches a quick several digit code into a small number pad hidden near the door to unlock it. The moment the door is open Ben is distracted. Standing just inside the door, giving them enough room to get in and remove their shoes are two large dogs, some sort of mixed breed if Ben had to guess. The larger of the dogs is all black from head to toe, the other brown with black around its ears and muzzle.

"That's Vulcan," George says pointing to the black dog, "and that is Drunkard."

Ben can't stop himself from laughing at the name, especially when the dog in question starts wagging his tail hard enough to make his entire body shake at his name. "Where did you get the name Drunkard?" he says through his giggles.

"When he was a puppy he could hardly walk in a straight line, it made sense," George says. Absently scritching Vulcan behind the ears when the dog presses against his leg in greeting.

It doesn't do much to stop Ben's laughter but eventually he manages to get enough control over himself to crouch down and hold out a hand for the dogs to sniff. Instead Drunkard immediately bowls into him, sniffing and licking at his face before leaning heavily against him and knocking Ben onto his ass. It takes a few minutes before George can pry the dog off Ben and get him back up on his feet. Giving Ben the chance to actually look around. The front door leads right into the crook of a hallway, to the left at the end are stairs leading up and straight ahead Ben can see what looks like the living room. This is where George leads him, past the door to the left ("that's the bathroom, nothing exactly special about it") and into a wide open space. There's no divide between the kitchen and living room except for the little strip that rests between the carpet and hardwood floor. The dining area is directly to the left, divided from the kitchen by a short bar counter lined with plush looking stools. And just beyond that is the kitchen. Along the back wall are wall high windows giving Ben a clear view of the patio and fire pit in the backyard.

It is, if Ben is going to be honest, fucking beautiful.

"I'm sure it's smaller than you were expecting but I simply don't have the patience or need for a overly large house. And I prefer the open space this provides," George say leading Ben further into the room. "Living room, when the weather is warm I usually leave the doors open for the dogs to roam freely in and out. The kitchen and dining area here, obviously."

He brings Ben to the mouth of the kitchen; the bar/counter to the left with cabinets above it and the sink and dishwasher at the far end, the main cooking space to the right. In the wall across from them a slim door. "I've never been fond of cooking, hence the small kitchen. That's the pantry at the end."

Ben nods and is then led back to the hall, around the corner, past the open coat closet inset into the wall, and up the stairs. At the top George opens the closest door, "This will be your room. I prefer my subs sleep with me in my room, but it is still important that you need your space. For yourself and your things. There's a safe in the closet, you can set the combination to whatever you want, I promise never to go in there without your permission."

It's beautiful, just like the rest of the house. The wide windows looking over the backyard and the woods beyond the neighborhood's fence. There's a bed, a dresser, a desk, several empty bookcases, and a decent sized walk in closet with a safe bolted to the floor in the corner. More space than Ben thinks he would ever need here.

From there George leads Ben down the hall to the only other door.

"And this is the bedroom," is all George says before opening the door and ushering Ben inside, letting the boy explore instead of pointing out what is what. Where the rest of the house had been in warm neutral tones and minimally decorated Ben could only describe the bedroom as rich and warm. The carpet is pale and soft looking, the walls a warm dark blue, the desk and furniture made of a dark wood. Luxurious comes to mind. The bed is huge and Ben can see the rings ready for restraints to be hooked into them lining it's frame, a chanced glance at the ceiling revealing the small seams of concealed hooks for suspension work. On the one wall are two doors, and on the opposite only one. Ben goes to the set of two first, the first door he opens reveals a spacious closet with a glaring empty spot.

"For your clothes, or at least any that you don't want to store in your own room," George supplies.

The other door brings heat to Ben's face immediately. A lifetime's worth of toys and supplies for scenes are there; racks of floggers and whips and ropes and gags and harnesses. Several types of non-commitment collars, made to suit any need. A peek into a random drawer reveals well over a dozen plugs nestled in velvet, the drawer below that having dildos, then vibrators, then fleshlights and cock cages. Ben swallows thickly and takes a few deep breaths. Most people had their dungeons made separate from their bedrooms for the simple matter of it costing less. No need for the contractors and decorators to try and achieve that perfect balance between the two. That George can combine the two so seamlessly, money aside, is almost miraculous to Ben. When he exits the room he finds George still in the doorway, something like a smirk playing on his face as he watches Ben. He doesn't say anything.

Ben tries to will his blush away, making his way across the room to the last door and swinging it open to reveal the master bath.

"Holy shit! This tub!" he almost shouts. It is the first thing that catches his attention. Set against the wall to the left and big enough to hold at least two people, maybe three? Complete with a small bench tucked against the outside. A quick glance around tells Ben that there's a huge shower against the other wall, complete with a bench to sit on inside, the toilet set behind a low wall, and a wide spacious counter with two sinks and a giant mirror. His attention keeps getting dragged back to the tub though.

"Think that will be enough?" is murmured into his ear, making him startle as strong arms wrap around his waist.

Ben can only bring himself to nod, squeaking out some inarticulate noise in a failed attempt to verbally answer. It gains him a kiss pressed into his hair.

"Welcome home, my divine boy."


	6. More Than What I’ve Fell Into Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So.... work decided to eat me alive

"Welcome Home, my divine boy."

Ben can feel his heart skip a beat at the words. At the way George's arms settle perfectly around him. It's all so… fucking perfect, like one of those old fairy tales and myths about soulmates. This is real life though, and Ben finds himself hoping that there isn't another shoe waiting to drop on his unsuspecting head. The arms around him tighten their hold and another kiss is pressed into his hair. As if George could sense the sudden surge of nervousness. Which… actually makes a bit of sense. Doms have to be sensitive to their sub's moods at all times. It works, comforting Ben. Eventually George tugs him backwards, back into the bedroom proper and downstairs to start bringing his things inside. Once the bags and boxes are all piled in Ben's new room they go back to George's.

"I only have a few house rules I expect you to follow and a small handful of chores that will be yours for the time being." A pause as he sits down at the desk. "You did say you were unemployed, right?"

"Yes, sir," Ben says, hovering for just a moment before deciding to kneel at George's feet.

"I wanted to be sure." George pauses again, looking carefully at Ben. He shifts a bit on his knees, nervousness creeping up his throat by inches.

"Sir?"

"Nothing," George says with a shake of his head. He reaches across the desk and plucks an envelope up, handing it off to Ben with little fanfare. "This is a credit card, your credit card. Don't worry about maxing it out or what the limit is."

Ben stares wide-eyed at George and the envelope, "sir… sir I can't, you don't need to—"

"Yes, I do." Ben jerks as if slapped at the gentle rebuke, despite the lack of heat in George's words, and drops his gaze to his lap. A strong hand guides his chin up, and Ben does his best to avert his eyes. "Look at me, my boy."

When he does the relief is palpable. George isn't angry, not in the least, in fact he looks… almost sad. "You're my sub, it is my privilege to care for you. I assume you've been living on your savings?" Ben mumbles an affirmative. "Then you know that won't last forever. While you are mine, I will care for you and that includes giving you this. There is no need for you to deprive yourself of little joys when I can easily afford them. I will never police what you buy with this card, it is yours and any purchases you make are yours. Unless you decide you want to buy a house or car, maybe consult me first when it comes to those."

Ben doesn’t say anything in return, just takes the envelope and ducks his head again. Tears burning in his eyes. George's hand winds its way into his hair, carefully stroking through the soft strands while Ben gets himself back under control. Eventually he is able to slow his breathing, stop the shaking in his hands, and lean into the soft touch in his hair.

When George is sure that Ben is calm he continues. The rules and chores he lists are simple: Dogs not allowed on the beds, no shoes upstairs, no meals outside the dining area but snacks are fine, never touch anything on George's desk without permission. He's to feed the dogs in the evening, garbage put out at noon on Wednesday, laundry done on Thursdays, make the bed every morning, when it's warm the patio is swept once a week. Once done George leads him back downstairs, tells him to take his time and properly acquaint himself with the house and unpack.

"I have some small business I need to take of," he says, "I tell them I'm taking a few days off to make sure I'm getting my sub settled and they decide to bother me with every issue that pops ups. As if Martha doesn’t exist. I'm sure she'll enjoy chewing them out once I'm done."

It is a chance to explore that Ben takes, Drunkard following him from room to room. There really isn't anything surprising about any of the rooms, except for the washing room. Ben isn't sure what he expects but it's not the almost basement sized space hidden in the center of the ground floor.

"What the fuck!" he half shouts.

Right by the door is the laundry area, washer and dryer lined up next to a deep sink. Off in a far corner he can see a frankly enormous water heater and the furnace, the rest of the space is obviously just storage. Boxes and bins stacked neatly on top of each other, some covered in a fine layer of dust.

"Did you know about this, Drunkard?" Ben asks the dog, watching as Drunkard sniffs around the space. The dog glances up at his name, tongue lolling out, but otherwise gives no answer.

"Are you alright?"

Ben spins to the door. George is there, looking both confused and concerned.

Inarticulate for a moment Ben just waves his hands around, "This is…. Why do you have a basement  _ in the center of your house?" _

George cocks a brow at him, "I don’t like basements, and I didn't want an attic. This was convenient."

* * *

"Convenient? If he wants to get out anything he has to pass through the fucking bathroom!"

Caleb howls with laughter on the other end of the Skype call, neither of them are really paying attention to what's happening on their respective screens. Ben concentrating more on unpacking while Caleb fucks around wherever the fuck he is. Currently Ben, the laptop (and by extension Caleb), and several boxes are sequestered away in Ben's closet as he decides which clothes will stay in here and which will go in George's closet.

"That is stupid rich."

Ben hums in agreement.

“So, you never did give me an answer about his dick last time," Caleb smirks at him, then laughs at the blush that blooms across his face.

"No— I—" Ben turns the laptop away to face the wall.

"Ben! You can still hear me! I can hear you blushing!"

"Holy shit, shut up," Ben flops on his stomach and spins the laptop back around, burying his face in his hands and grumbling out an answer.

"I'm sorry, Benny-boy, but what was that? Your fucking hands were in the way."

Ben glares up at Caleb's grinning face, "I said I don't know. Everything strictly non-sexual or in our pants at the club."

There's a long pause. "Really?"

"I don't know what to do, Caleb I…" Ben trails off, chewing on his lip.

"Ben, it'll be—"

"What if I'm not enough? What- what if I do something wrong? I don't want to disappoint him, I can't fuck this up on the first night!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Caleb waves his hands at the camera, "Benny! Benny, listen to me. You'll be fine. It'll be fine. Just trust him, you can do that, he's not Arnold. Everything you've told me about him indicates that he'll be fine about it. He's not going to set you up for failure and blame it on you when it comes true."

"But—"

"NO," Caleb shouts, leaning into the mic to make sure it gets across as loud as possible, "Don't fuck yourself up like that, Tallboy."

Ben nods, still nervous, but feeling less like his heart was going to burst out of his chest from the fear of it all. Tonight was going to be his first time with George. Properly  _ with _ George, not just grinding against him in a club alcove. It made sense to at least still be a little nervous. He rolls over onto his back, lightly kicking at the open door of the safe. His copy of the contract is in there, a handful of other important paperwork. He doesn't have much that he wants kept secret or locked away.

"Just think about awesome his dick probably is."

Ben groans, blush spreading as he drags his hand down his face. Distantly he can hear the jingling of one of the dogs collars. Looking upside down at the door to see Drunkard pushing his way through and picking his way around the piles of clothes to come lay down next to Ben.

"What the fuck is that? Why is there a horse in the house?"

Ben laughs, dropping his hand to scratch behind Drunkard's ears. The dog rolls over, tail thumping hard against the thick carpet, to let Ben rub at his tummy.

"It's a dog, Caleb," Ben says with an upside down smile directed at the laptop. Letting out a small  _ oof _ when Drunkard adjusts his position and ends up kicking Ben in the stomach.

"No, that's a horse."

"Drunkard is a good horse then, aren't you?"

" _ What the fuck _ kind of name is Drunkard?!"

"Don't make fun of Drunky."

"Holy shit, Benny."

Ben laughs, hard enough he can feel a stitch developing in his side, curled on the floor of his new closet and feeling more at home than he has in years. It's only as his laughter tapers off that he can hear the muffled foot falls of George coming into his room. Pausing just before knocking on the door to the closet.

"Ben?"

"Ah, yes? Come in?" Ben says, he can see Caleb try to lean forward and them stop himself, as if he might be able to somehow look over the edge to the other side of the laptop if he leans close enough to the screen. He drops back in his chair with a sigh and flips Ben off when he laughs from his spot on the floor. George lets the door swing open and for a moment just stares down at Ben, something like amusement in his eyes even while the rest of him remains as stoic as ever.

"I have to go into work to handle some issues, it shouldn't be too long. Will you be okay while I'm gone?"

"Yeah," Ben says, dislodging Drunkard to sit up properly. "I still have a bunch of unpacking to do anyway."

George hums, stepping forward to sweep a hand through Ben's hair. "Don't overwork yourself, you have plenty of time to settle in sweet thing."

Ben closes his eyes, leaning into the contact for just a moment, "yes sir."

"Good boy," George ducks down to press a kiss into Ben's hair and then he's gone. Drunkard huffing at being disturbed. For a long moment the space is quiet except for the dog's tags jingling and the hum of the laptop fan. Then…

"Forget his dick, he could fuck you senseless with is voice alone."

_ "Oh my god, Caleb." _

* * *

It's a few hours later when Ben hears George get home. The front door swinging open and closed, Drunkard scrambles up from his reclined position on the tile to go greet him. By now Ben has moved into the bathroom, after some light exploring he's found the cabinets to the left are empty, most likely the place George has reserved for his subs. So Ben hauls up the box containing his toiletries and sets to work. Sitting on the rim of the bathtub as he sorts it all out, the counter being just within arms reach. Soap set out, lotion, shampoo and conditioner, all lined up neatly on the counter. By the time George is home Ben's migrated to the floor and is sorting out his small collection of bath bombs into a container he'll keep in the cabinet closest to the tub. Each one individually wrapped and labeled. He doesn't notice when the door opens a bit more and George walks in, not until a broad hand is brushing his hair back.

"What's all this?"

It's stupid, Ben knows it's stupid, but there's no stopping the surge of anxiety that rises within him at those words. No stopping the way he starts to babble.

"It uh, they're bath bombs. They make the water smell good, they also change the colors of the bath but they don't—" he leans back against George's leg, looking up at the other man pleadingly "—they don't stain the bath. Not badly, it can be washed out."

George gives Ben's hair a gentle tug when he takes breath, stopping him from going further into his burgeoning panic.

"Would you want me to use them for your aftercare?"

"Yes, please," Ben says, leaning back even more against George.

"Pick one out to use tonight, then once you're finished here strip and go wait for me on the bed."

Ben's eyes go wide, George's hand getting dislodged from his hair when he looks back down at his collection. Debating before pulling out a white, heart-shaped one with flowers imbedded into it and handing it off to George to set aside for later. "Just drop it in the bath when the tub is full."

"Good boy," and with that George is gone, back into the bedroom.

After taking a moment to reorient himself Ben rushes through putting the rest of the bath bombs away. Kicking the box to the side so it'll be out of the way later. Then he strips, dropping his clothes in the hamper on his way out of the bathroom. The lights in the bedroom have been dimmed and the door to the toy room now stands ajar, but that's the only difference that Been can see. He shifts about when he takes a seat on the edge of the bed, waiting patiently for whatever George has planned.

When he comes out he has ropes, just ropes and nothing else. Indicating with a nod of his head for Ben to move back onto the center of the bed, following him just enough to tie Ben's legs together at the knees and ankles. Then rolling him over to tie his hands behind his back.

"I like it when my subs put on a bit of show for me, I like to watch them squirm."

Ben wriggles a bit against his bonds, eyes wide. The change is remarkable, the warm and stoic George is gone, replaced by a man with a gaze like ice and seemingly uninterested. Ben's heart thuds in chest at the change, nervousness beginning to fester in his gut that he tamps down. He won't ruin this, he won't.

"So that's just what you're going to do for me," he says, voice flat as he strokes Ben to hardness. Dragging a thumb over the tip as Ben's hips jerk into his loose fist. "I am going watch you squirm around on my bed, for as long as I like, and you're not allowed to come until I say so."

Ben's hair is grabbed roughly, turning his head so his eyes meet George's cool gaze, "Understood?"

"Y- yes, sir."

George loosens his grip, just a bit, and scratches lightly at Ben's scalp. A bit of the warmth that Ben is familiar with peeking through. "What's your color?"

"Green," Ben whispers.

"Thank you, sweet thing," George says, pressing a kiss to Ben's forehead before slipping back into his cold persona. Moving back and off Ben to sit in a plush armchair and watch. And Ben, already so worked up, doesn't hesitate to start. Wriggling and shifting on the sheets, anything for a little bit of contact, a little bit of friction, a little bit of anything to take the edge off. Occasionally George leans forward to pull his legs out straight and get rid of any traction he gained, to tug him into a new position, to pull his hair just for the noise it draws out of his sub. It feels as if hours pass, eventually Ben stops, panting and sweating, back turned to George as he tries to catch his breath. He startles when George covers his body with his own and he just as suddenly realizes that George is still fully dressed. Not a single piece of his suit removed except for the shoes. Every point where George's clothes brush against his own bare skin sending sparks cascading through him.

"Such a pretty show, do you want to come? Do you, pretty little thing?"

Ben nods furiously, babbling and begging until a hand in his hair yanks his head back.

"And what about me?" George angles his hips so his cock presses against Ben's bound thighs. "You think you should come without giving me anything?"

"No nono, sir, please." Ben babbles, twisting so he can press against George.  _ I can be good I can be good I can be good I can be good _

He's rolled over onto his stomach, lube chilled fingers probing at his hole, "Can you? Be good for me?" Fuck, did he say all of that out loud? Nonetheless Ben nods, swearing up and down that he can. The oaths breaking around a moan as George's fingers slip past the ring of muscle, the moan turning into a shout when he crooks them just right to hit that perfect spot.

"So tight, your sweet little ass. If I yank at that beautiful hair of yours—" George tugs at the smooth strands "— will you clench even tighter around me? It feels like you will, I can't fucking wait."

A third finger joins the first two, methodically stretching Ben out and dragging a pitiful whine out of the boy.

"Impatient? Just can't wait for me to fill you up?" George punctuates his question with a roll of his hips and Ben sobs into the sheets.

"If you want me then  _ beg _ ."

And Ben does.

_ "Please, please sir, please fuck me. I need you to fuck me. I need your cock, please." _

George moans, low and deep, Ben can feel it in his bones. Ben keens when the fingers are removed, left panting as George undoes his fly and frees his cock. He takes a moment to free Ben's legs, kicking the rope off the bed and pulling Ben up onto his knees. One of those broad hands comes up to rest at the base of his neck, over his collarbones, and Ben goes slack against his Dom. Groaning at the rasp of George's suit against his back. Head tipping back to give him access to kiss and bite at his neck as George guides his cock in. George holds him there, one hand at his throat and the other at his hip, still bound arms pressed between them as he fucks into Ben.

It's the hand at his throat sliding up to pull his hair that almost does Ben, making his breath hitch as he moans and struggles hold his release.

"Want to come, pretty little thing?" George growls in his ear, hand tightening in his hair.

_ "Please sir I can be good please please sir I can be good I promise" _

"Come for me."

Ben screams, his entire body shaking as electricity courses under his skin. Clenching tight around George's cock, it's enough that he doesn't even notice George's own release. Doesn't notice when the ropes holding his arms are removed, he comes back to the warmth of George's hands rubbing his arms and legs. Smoothing out the marks left from the rope. Kissing where his wrists had rubbed against them.

"Sir?"

All the warmth is back, he passes a hand over Ben's brow, brushing his hair back. "Back with me? What's your color, Ben?"

Ben stretches, relishing the pop in his back, before curling back against George, idly noting that the jacket and waistcoat are gone. "Green."

"Good, it wasn't too much?"

Ben shakes his head, letting out a contented sigh as he George pulls him up and bundles a blanket around his shoulders. Happy to lean into the Dom and take all the comfort offered as he tucks Ben under his chin and presses a kiss into his hair. Ben hums, tilting his head to press a kiss to George's collar before nuzzling into the bit of skin revealed there. The arms around him tighten just a fraction and for a while they just sit there, cuddling close while George murmurs praise, until George gives Ben's hair the gentlest of tugs to get his attention.

"Ready for your bath, my boy?"

Ben nods, mentally preparing himself get up when he really doesn't want to. Instead George shifts him a bit, picking him up and carrying him to the bathroom where he sits Ben, blanket bundle and all, on the counter near the tub. Cupping Ben's face and drawing him into a slow soft kiss before turning away to fill the tub. Going back to gently running his hands through Ben's hair and pressing kisses his sub's face as they wait for the tub to fill them for the bath bomb Ben picked earlier to diffuse. The roses coming loose to float freely in the water as it turns a soft milky color. When there's just a little bit of the bomb still fizzing in the water Ben wiggles off the counter, finally too impatient to wait to get into his bath, the steam and soft scent filling the room calling to him.

"Will you be okay for a couple minutes?" George asks, voice soft as Ben sinks into the water up to his chin.

Ben nods, content to rest his head against the edge of the tub and let his mind drift. George bends down to press a quick kiss to Ben's forehead, promising that it won't be long, before grabbing the blanket and quickly moving into the other room. Ben lets his eyes drift shut, curling onto his side as he listens to his Dom move about the other room, picturing George as he puts away the ropes and changes the sheets. Soft sounds of domesticity that he never realized he was missing before.

When he finally comes back into the bathroom George looks just as relaxed as Ben feels. Somehow. As if caring for Ben is enough to relax him as much as the bath does for his sub. Sitting down on the short bench he rubs a hand across Ben's shoulders. "How are you feeling?"

"Amazin," Ben mumbles.

"Want me to wash your hair?"

It takes a moment for the words to process with Ben's sleepy mind, "Nuh uh, m'just tired."

"Want to get out?"

Ben scrunches up his face and shakes his head, earning a chuckle from George as he cards a hand through Ben's hair. So they just sit in the quiet, George going back to murmuring praise and showering Ben in kisses. At one point he produces Ben's hairbrush to carefully comb out all the snags, each pass of the brush eliciting a pleased hum. They stay like this until the water goes cold, and Ben finally lets George wrap him in fluffy towels and dry him off. Carrying him back to bed and gently placing him under the covers before going to change into a thin t-shirt and soft looking sleep pants.

"Can I have one of your shirts to sleep in?" Ben asks, twisting the comforter in his hands, unable to look up to meet George's eye. George pulls him into another kiss before leaving and coming back with a shirt that Ben could almost swim in. It's soft and thin, the lettering on the front faded so much it's unreadable, and it somehow makes Ben want to just sink into the soft bed and blankets and stay there forever. He shoots off a couple quick texts to Caleb while George turns out the lights before abandoning his phone on the floor as the Dom slides into bed next to him, eager to have those arms wrapped around him again. He can charge his phone in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [hmu on the blue hellsite](http://comp-lady.tumblr.com)


	7. I'm In Clover

One warm hand alternating between rubbing his back and stroking his hair draws Ben slowly out of sleep. The late morning light is soft and hazy through the curtains, bathing everything in a warm glow. Ben takes a moment to stretch, to wake up fully as George goes to feed the dogs. Relishing the way his back pops as he twists under the comforter. It has to be the most refreshed he's felt upon waking up in a long time. The bed still warm from their sleep and the blankets soft to the touch. 

Ben's still curled in his little sanctuary when George comes back. Watching sleepily over the edge of the blankets as his Dom scoops his phone up off the floor to set it to charge finally and bends over to press a quick kiss to Ben's forehead before disappearing into the bathroom. There's a moment of quiet then the shower. Ben listens to the water for a minute before fumbling for his phone. Sending a few messages off to Nate to see if his friend will be available to help move the rest of his stuff later 

The back and forth with Nate is still going on when George steps out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist. It's the first proper look he's gotten of George out of a suit.

And…

Oh boy.

Ben is frozen on the bed, watching as George makes his way across the room. At least until George notices Ben's attention and smirks, coming over to Ben's side of the bed and leaning over him.

"Having a good morning, pretty thing?" 

Ben nods, tugging the cover up to his nose and curling up further as a blush burns across his face and arousal curls in his gut. His eyes traces the path a water droplet makes down his Dom's neck, pooling for a moment at his collarbone before slipping lower. In his distraction he doesn't notice George's hand moving until the blanket is torn out of his hands, George moving to cover ben with his body and pinning his wrists to the bed.

There is nothing to stop Ben's eyes from snapping down, pulse racing at the sight of George stretched out over him without the towel to cover him. Ben can feel his blush start to crawl down his neck. He wriggles a bit, testing the hold George has on his wrists. His Dom holds fast, smirking even more at the sub, bringing one knee up to slowly to separate Ben's legs and press against his growing arousal.

Ben bucks against the contact, sighing as George moves his hands up to the headboard. Automatically grabbing the curved metal work inset into the headboard. George leans down to kiss at his throat, prompting Ben to tilt his head back and fully expose his neck.

"Good boy, you keep your hands right there," he rumbles against Ben's neck.

He starts biting and sucking dark marks on Ben's neck, hand skimming down to drift under the shirt he'd given Ben to sleep in; resting one warm hand on Ben's ribs while the other slides up to pinch and twist one pert nipple. Ben's back bows at the sensation, groaning as he grinds down against George's leg. The hand on Ben's ribs snaps up to cover Ben's eyes. The morning light blocked out by George's broad hand.

There's a small scuffling sound in the nightstand drawer, two things dropping onto the bed next to Ben's hip. The hand covering his eyes is replaced with smooth silk.

"I think a but of surprise is in order," George chuckles.

Ben gasps, toes curling as heat pools in his belly and a rush of slight unease from the anticipation hits him. Heightening every other sense to try and predict what's coming next.

He doesn't expect the latch of a ring around the base of his cock, vibrating at the lightest of settings.

There's no contact from George as he bucks at the sudden sensation, except for when his legs bump against the Dom's sides. He can hear George chuckling above him, a low rumble of a laugh that makes his dick twitch.

Cold slicked fingers probe at his entrance, the sensation making Ben jump enough to prompt George to hold him down with his free hand, fingers splaying out across Ben's navel.

"Calm down pretty thing. I have no intention of making you wait right now."

"Thank you, sir," Ben whispers.

Another chuckle, the shirt is tugged back down from where it bunched up around his chest.

"Such a good boy," George croons.

Pride blooms in Ben's chest. A grin splitting across his face even as he moans at the way George's fingers move within him. Fingers pressing into the curve of Ben's hip. He arches into the contact, whimpers when George pulls his fingers out and leaves Ben feeling empty. Thighs trembling in anticipation as George pulls them apart, settling a pillow under him for support. Ben readjusts his grip, his heart hammering away in his chest at a rabbit's pace. Skin buzzing at every point of contact with George. He arches as George slides into him, smooth and slick, stopping once he's in to the hilt and bending over to drag more sucking misses across Ben's collar bone. Trailing up Ben's slender neck until he can swallow Ben's moans with his lips as he starts to rock his hips.

Ben hardly notices the ring being slipped off his cock. His entire being consumed by the hard rhythm set by George pounding into him, the way George has started biting at the underside of his jaw.

It feels like several blissful hours have passed when George’s pace stutters. Becoming erratic as he reaches his end, Ben gasping and gripping the metal for dear life. George groans into the crook of Ben's neck as he comes. Ben can feel it in his bones, cock throbbing against his stomach. The room goes quiet except for the sound of their breathing while George catches his breath. He pulls out slow enough to make Ben whine.

This is… going to be it? George said he likes a show and having his sub go about aroused would probably be a good one. Ben takes a deep breath, trying to brace himself for it. Those warm, broad hands settle on his hips, thumbs rubbing circles on the rise and cruse of his hip bone.

"What's your color?"

"Green," Ben breathes.

"Do you think I'm going to leave you like this?"

Ben nods, gasps at a sharp swat against his thigh.

"Words, Benjamin."

"Yes, yes I do, sir."

"Now that would be unfair," George says, "when you've been such a good boy."

Ben cocks his head, it's sounds like George's voice is… moving? Traveling?

Wet heat engulfs him, the only thing keeping Ben on the bed is George's firm grip on his hips. There's barely enough time for Ben to register it before it's gone and Ben cries out at the loss, whimpering as George twists his hand over the head of Ben's dick.

"Did you really think I could leave this pretty pink cock alone?" he chuckles, not waiting for an answer. Ben's hips jerking as George drags his tongue against the slit, slowly dragging his slicked hand up and down the shaft. Pausing in the small licks to circle his thumb over the head, gathering the slowly dribbling precum. Ben gasps and whines and babbles, begging.

_ "Please sir, let me come, please please sir I need to come, please sir." _

An unending plea that makes George chuckle but not speed up his ministrations. One long broad drag of his tongue on the underside of his cock has Ben screaming, panting through the smaller laps George lavishes on the head. Ben's head starting to swim from the arousal.

George's progress is torturous, slow and devoted. Through the haze in his mind the word 'worship' comes to mind, but it's swept away in a wave when George finally wraps his lips around the head and begins to lightly suck. Ben sobs at the change, at the slow pace George takes as he bobs up and down. Taking more of Ben bit by bit until he's swallowing down as much of him as possible on each downstroke.

With that it's not long until Ben's orgasm consumes him. George milking him through it carefully, crawling up his body to ease the blindfold off and guide his arms back down. Gently rubbing to soothe the ache while carefully watching Ben's face.

"Color?"

"Green," Ben hums, enjoying the attention.

"Good," George says, looping an arm around Ben's waist to lift and guide him out of the bed. "I think a shower is in order for both of us."

Ben huffs out a laugh, tugging his shirt off and tossing it in the hamper as they pass it by. The water is still hot, and it's too easy for Ben to just lean against George and enjoy the attention. Humming answers whenever he's asked something, nodding against George's chest. There's a moment of awkward silence as George looks at the label of Ben's shampoo, DADDY-O staring up at him innocently. The look he gives Ben is wholly amused, one eyebrow quirked as he smirks at his sub.

"I like it, it makes my hair soft," Ben mumbles, staring down at their feet.

It's a few seconds into George washing his hair when Ben has the revelation. A truly horrible one. Born from the feel of George slowly massaging his scalp.

"Oh no," Ben moans, even as he leans into the touch.

"What's wrong?"

"I made a mistake," Ben whines.

"What do you mean? What mistake?" The soothing motions pause and Be whines again. Making George lean back to look at him with concern.

"Last night! You offered to wash my hair and I said no, what the fuck? Why did I do that?"

"Something to keep in mind in the future then," George says around a laugh.

* * *

They leave for Ben's old apartment later than expected, not because of the bout of morning sex or the second shower, but because Ben spends far too long prodding at the marks that had blossomed over his neck and collarbone. Idly pressing his fingers against the larger bite marks, toes curling at the soreness that flares under his fingers. The ones George had peppered on Ben this morning already darkening. He'd taken the time to text Caleb about it, then even more time taking a Proof Selfie that looked good enough. So they arrive late. Nate waiting for them outside the building in his truck. He cocks an eyebrow at the expensive car but blissfully says nothing, Ben is sure he'll hear about it later but for now he'd rather Nate not voice his concerns out loud. Last thing Ben wants is for George to know about Benedict.

Though the constipated face Nate makes when he sees the hickeys on Ben’s neck would probably make up for it.

Nate gives George a nod and shakes his hand. Says it's nice to meet him and that he's heard so much about George as he shakes his hand. Doesn't mention that half of those time he's been the most vocally disapproving of this relationship out of Ben's group of friends.

Once inside the apartment George has that same expression from yesterday as he looks around, the one that Ben can't quite read. Nate merely sighs. Loudly.

"I'm going to be so glad to see you out of this shit hole, Benny."

Ben flushes, staring down at a tear in the carpet. Nate is in his space before the embarrassment can settle though, wrapping an arm around his shoulder to jostle him a bit. It draws a smile and Ben leads them back into the living room to begin collecting the last of his belongings. Everything already neatly sorted the day before.

"Looks like you've been having fun," Nate mutters to him a couple hours later as they load the final storage items into the back of his truck. Ben just flashes a grin at him, tilting his chin up to show the mottled marks off. Again, causing Nate to groan. "Couldn't you have worn a scarf?"

Ben laughs, flopping sideways in the back of the truck, a little giddy at the realization that with last trip he'll officially be moved out. All of his kitchen appliances and furniture are going into a storage unit. The last of Ben's books and clothes piled into the backseat of George's car. One last trip and then George and Ben head back home to pass the day quietly. It's how the next several days go, George helps him finish unpacking, Drunkard attaches himself to Ben's hip, they settle into a routine. Ben knows that this routine is temporary, is reminded every time George's phone rings and he sighs at it. That soon George will be going back to work.

That day comes too soon for Ben's taste. He's woken up by George as he smooths Ben's hair out of his face, Ben blinks up at him blearily and takes in the suit and how put together George looks. It's… hot, but weird, he's now so used to seeing George in his much less formal post-work state.

"You've gotta work," he says, curling tighter under the covers. George actually looks a little regretful, leaning down to kiss Ben's temple.

"I'll be home around 4 or 5 this afternoon, you'll be fine."

Sure, he'll probably be fine, but that doesn't mean he has to be happy about it. Once George is gone he dozes for maybe another hour or so before rolling out of bed. There's a moment of hesitation as he stands next to the bed, unsure what he should do. He's surprised, and more than a little thankful, that being in the house without George doesn't feel awkward. Like he is an intruder in this house.

It does leave him at a loss of what to do for the day though, he cleans a bit first, takes the dogs for a long walk to get a rough layout of the surrounding neighborhood. George’s home is a lo closer to the center of town tan hi shitty apartment was. Easily within walking distance. So he spends some time just walking around town, enjoying the place in a way he hasn't really been able to since he moved to town. Red Arbor's College Town is a small hub of lazy activity, a buffer of suburbia stopping it from being completely engulfed in the shadow of Downtown. Old brick buildings hold up leaning wooden ones, shops sat at the top of narrow staircases with walls still carrying posters from the 70s. Students string hammocks between lampposts and trees to read and study and sleep. The scents of food drifting out from the open doors of restaurants mingle with music from street musicians, a man sets up a milkcrate and piece of plywood to display jewelry he has made to sell on the sidewalk. The New And Modern Theater advertises Hollywood movies, The Old And Small one down the block hosts student films. There's a bowl of water for dogs by every shop door.

It’s homey.

When he gets back at the house Ben finds himself kicking around the tiny kitchen, digging through the fridge and pantry. Running through the short list of recipes in he has stored in his head. George never said that he wants Ben to cook for him, never even got close to asking, but Ben really  _ wants _ to cook for George. For the first time in a long time he wants to cook for someone else. At the moment he is merely hungry, George coming home is still hours away.

There isn't much food at all, a testament to not liking to cook for himself, Ben supposes. There's enough… well there's the  _ toppings _ for tacos, but no tortillas. The ground beef that George does have is still frozen solid, otherwise there is sliced deli meat that looks questionable and a block of cheese that could be used as a hammer. A quick trip to fetch some non-frozen beef and Ben is locating pans that look brand new and a cutting board still wrapped in plastic.

After he's eaten, he grabs a book. Stays at the table with an empty plate and a pair of dogs begging for scraps at his side. The silence interrupted when his phone rings from where he'd left it sitting on the counter between oven and fridge, and Ben peels himself away from his book to answer.

"Hi, Mom." Ben washes the dishes as he talks. Small subjects like how he’s doing (which is great he gushes), what his brothers are up to now, his nephews and nieces, how things are at the church.

"So," She says, breaking a lull in the conversation, "you told me you have a new contract. That start yet?" It's awkward. There is doubt and concern laced in her voice, the same way it was when he called to tell her about the contract with George. The same doubt and concerns in the texts from his brothers. Ben thinks of the wall of congratulatory cards in the store.

"Yeah! About a week ago actually. Today's the first day George went back to work." Ben doesn't have to fake the cheer in his voice. It's in his chest, his throat, a constant warmth that he's never felt before and he prays never goes away.

"Ah." No enthusiasm. "That's nice honey, do you have a car?"

_ Can you get away _ . Ben bites his lip and slides down to the floor, back pressed against the cabinets. "No… but Anna doesn't live too far away, Nate too."  _ They rescued me before _ .

His mother must hear it though, because she sighs and it sounds like relief. "That's good, but you still need a car honey."

Ben's old clunker had fallen apart a short time after meeting Benedict. Getting a new one was never allowed to be high on his priority list after that. Part of him wonders if George would buy him a car. "Yeah, I know."

A long moment of silence.

"It's… it's different this time, Mom." Voice small, it sounds more like a plea to Ben's ears than anything else. He just wants her to understand. But he doesn't know how to put what he feels into worlds, the overwhelming need for George to just be there, the way that peace settles in his bones whenever the Dom is around.

She doesn't give him the confirmation he wants, there is no way she can if he is being honest with himself. Instead she insists that he go back to Setauket for Thanksgiving, and to bring George so they can meet him. Ben tries to picture George in his small childhood home and draws a blank. It'll be good though, to be able to show them in person how much George cares. Something loosens in his chest, suddenly tired, Ben says his goodbyes and clambers up from the kitchen floor. Dropping onto the couch after a few wobbly steps.

When George gets home he's asleep, napping on the couch with Drunkards asleep on his legs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave me a lot of issue when I first wrote it. Comign around to it the second time I was determined to make this a chapter that I love as much as the others.
> 
> and you know what?
> 
> I fucking won!
> 
> [anyway hmu on the tumbls friendos](http://comp-lady.tumblr.com/)


	8. The Right Before It Rains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter of moments. Glimpses into the little scenes that build a life together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My brain farted on any tags I may need to add specifically for this chapter. So I may add them later if I think of them, however if anyone has any suggestions I am all ears. Also this chapter is just barely 29 pages in gdocs, holy fucking shit

**Months pass…**

Ben carefully traces over the array of collars that are held on a display in the toy room. They're all standard collars, nothing especially remarkable about any of them. Most Doms usually have a small collection of basic collars. A couple he can tell are made for a more versatile or specific type of play, having extra D rings and the wider ones meant to limit movement or maintain posture. George has had him wear a couple in some scenes they’ve done. He hasn't used a leash yet.

The thought has him curling his hand away from the display. George doesn't know, he reminds himself. It's uncharitable to compare.

Instead Ben tries to picture what kind of collar he would wear. What kind of collar might be appropriate for him. Would it be a sturdy chain collar? Or a thicker leather one? Something with a design? It's hard for Ben to picture himself wearing anything so decorous. Any collar he'd be given would be plain.

A plain collar for a plain sub.

*********

The house is unusually quiet. Which is enough to get Ben to pause his documentary and sit up. Cocking his head as he tries to catch any sound from within the house. George was due home soon and usually around this time Ben was either napping or in the middle of cooking dinner. Today is a dinner day, chili simmering away in the slow cooker while Ben watches documentaries on Netflix. He is maybe 20 minutes into a documentary about Cold War spies when he notices the silence and its likely cause.

Where were the dogs?

Cooking with meat usually meant he had three shadows for the day, instead of just his own and Drunkard. Vulcan following him around the house as well. Yet Vulcan and Drunkard are nowhere to be seen. Even the kitchen is empty. Ben knows from experience that the pair will sit and whine until he attempts to banish them from kitchen to the backyard only to relent and give them each a small piece. And yet, empty kitchen, no sign or sound from either dog.

"Drunky? Vulcan?" Ben calls, levering himself up off the couch. There's the jingle of tags from the hallway. Drunkard rounding the corner looking eager. Immediately making a bee-line for the kitchen.

"Ok, where's your brother?" Ben murmurs, ignoring Drunkard's hopeful looks at the slow cooker. Another call receives no answer, no jingling tags or bark.

Shit.

Drunkard follows Ben as he starts searching, calling for Vulcan the entire time. He checks the backyard, the bathroom, the not-actually-a-basement. He even checks the pantry to see if he maybe closed Vulcan in there on accident. His stomach churning more and more with each unanswered call for the dog.

"Drunky where's Vulcan? Where is he?" he tries to prompt the younger dog into leading him to Vulcan as he checks his bedroom. All it earns is Drunkard running to get Vulcan's pillow bed and hauling it into Ben's room.

"That… does not help me out here, buddy."

It's when he makes his way into the master bedroom that he hears it. The clack and scrape of nails against the tub. Ben sighs in relief, even as Drunkard bumps into him from behind while still trying to haul the pillow with him.  He pats Drunkard on the side of the head and makes his way over to the bathroom. The clatter of nails gets louder as Ben nudges the door open the rest of the way.

Vulcan is rolling around in the tub, his smooth black fur covered in the gold glitter from Ben's last bath bomb. The moment he notices Ben he's on his paws, jumping out of the tub to look up at Ben expectantly. Glittering like the night sky.

Ben lets out the most undignified squawk before muffling his laughter with one hand, pulling out his phone with the other. Starting to record a video as Vulcan watches him impassively.

"I forgot to rinse the tub," Ben whines into his hand, voice strained. "Oh god, you're going to need a bath. I can't believe I forgot to— No! Oh my god." He can only watch as the dog hops back into the tub to roll around again.

Both dogs freeze, and Ben hears the front door open. George is home. The dogs barrel past him, barking up a storm eager to greet him. A faint cloud of glitter wafts to the floor in Vulcan's wake. Leaving the faintest trail behind him. A chill washes over Ben, urging him to rush off after them to explain before George gets too angry _(would he though? Get angry?_ A little voice whispers) _._ When he gets to the bottom of the stairs he's breathless, suddenly not ready to face any possible anger. But there at the end of the hallway by the door is George, staring down at the sparkling Vulcan. Ben moves forward on shaking legs, watching George’s every move. Scanning his face for any sign of anger.

"What happened to you, pup?" his Dom says, cautiously patting the dog on the head and coming away with glitter covering his palm.

"It's pet safe! It's made of seaweed!" Ben blurts it out, then shrinks back a bit when George turn to him.

"Where did it come from?"

"I took a bath earlier… I forgot to drain the tub."

A nod, another cautious pat to Vulcan's head. "We can give him a bath later, after dinner," he says, pressing a kiss to Ben's temple as he walks by.

Ben tries to hide his relief, his fear isn't fair to George. "The chili should be ready by now."

"And I'm sure the dogs now know it tastes already."

"Not this time!" Ben jogs to catch up to his Dom, "they were too busy playing in the tub."

*********

Pet play is new to Ben. The idea of putting on a pair of ears and pretending to a cat for a period of time seemed a little childish. Or so he thought, anyway. Benedict certainly insisted that it was childish, which is part of got Ben to agree when George suggested it. It had barely taken a glance at the platinum blonde ears and tail for him to agree. It felt as if her were beign rebellious. Against what, he wasn’t sure, but it felt _good_. Honestly it's been fun to not have any responsibilities today, to laze about and soak up the affection George has been quite happy to give.

Except for now.

Because George insisted work emails had to be sent. And when you're a cat those emails are pretty boring.

Ben pouts at him from his spot on the floor, dramatically sprawled half across the coffee table. His hand bumps George's water bottle, knocking it over. Before Ben can even think about it he's setting it to right. Then he pauses.

If he's a cat… then the cat-like thing to do would be…

He nudges at the water bottle, looks back at George and meows loudly, nudges it again when his Dom glances up over the rim of his glasses with a furrowed brow. His heart pounds in his chest, old lessons beaten into him telling him that he's treading dangerous ground. He nudges the bottle again.

"Benjamin." It's a warning, and Ben's heart beats ever faster. He hides the tremor that finds his hand by tucking it under his chest where he lays on the table.

George goes back to the emails.

It takes a moment for Ben to regroup. To gather his courage back together in the face of that stern tone. Another nudge, it's close to the edge now.

_"Benjamin."_

His gaze snaps up to George, the Dom's face is stern but Ben thinks he sees amusement there. Hiding in the back of George's eyes. He clings to that. Keeping eye contact as he gives the water bottle one final push, sending it toppling off the table to the ground with a _thunk_.

The laptop is tossed to the side. Ben squeals as George hauls him up into his lap.

The fear that leeched its way into him dissipates then George kisses him, one broad hand stroking Ben's side.

"My naughty little kitty."

***********

Ben had thought he could handle a gag again, or that at least he could power through. For George. If he could do that then everything would be okay. George had mentioned once that he liked the look of a gagged sub while they watched a performance during a recent trip to Enigma. Ben just wants to be good.

Ben easily keeps his kneeling posture picture perfect as George approaches him from behind. Can feel the warmth of George's presence against his back. Everything is fine and normal. When George check his color there is no lie when he replies with green. Then the gag lowers into his vision. Utterly innocuous.

And yet…

Yet…

He can't, Ben can't be good. He's going to throw up and his head is spinning and he wants to scream and needs to get away. Needs to gets away now! No! _No No No No!!!_

"Red!" Ben breaks position to press against George's legs, turning his head away. "Red! RedRe—"

And George is there. The ball gag is gone. Pulling Ben in close to his chest and petting his hair. Ben automatically finds himself nuzzling in close, his head still spinning as the panic rapidly fizzles out. Leaving him an empty vessel sagging in George's arms. It buzzes in his mind like static, drowning out whatever comfort George is murmuring.

"I'm sorry, sir," Ben croaks when he find his voice.

George kisses his forehead. "You're fine, my boy, you've done nothing wrong."

The words rattle about in Ben head like loose screws. Fine… he's fine? He's not in trouble for stopping this? He's not in trouble for breaking the scene? He's… he… It's so much more than Ben expected. Than anything he's ever gotten before. He can't stop the tears from spilling over, hiccupping loudly as he starts to sob all over again. Clinging to George as he breaks down in relief at the unexpected.

"Ben?!" George pulls back as much as he can. His eyes tracing over Ben's form in short quick movements. "Ben, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

His voice is scattered again, leaving Ben able to only shake his head as he hiccups.

"Are you sure?"

A nod, George's plaintive concern causing Ben's breathing to hitch several times.

"Then why are you crying, pet? What can I do to help? What's wrong?"

"You- you're n-not mad at- at me," Ben gasps between sobs. Hands twisting into George's shirt.

George's brow creases, lips parting as if he wants to ask something. Instead he pulls Ben in close again, holding him even tighter than before as he rubs a hand up and down his back. Letting the silence and his own steady breathing help Ben regulate his own. The sobs and hitched breaths slowly peter out bit by bit. Leaving Ben to lean heavily into George's arms as the sudden exhaustion creeps into his bones and make a home there. He's too tired to even startle when George suddenly speaks. Deep voice rumbling through Ben's ribcage to wrap around his heart as a guard.

"Benjamin, I want you to listen carefully. I will never be angry with you for safewording out of a scene. Never. I will never blame you or punish you for it. I know it will take time for this truth to…" George pauses, takes a deep breath. "To override what you have already been taught. But it will one day, Ben, and I'll be there for you every step of the way."

*************

"You've been very good," George says one night while Ben is cooking dinner. Ben smiles down at the stovetop, prodding the chicken he’s cooking.

"I try to be."

"You succeed, very well."

Ben can feel a blush crawling up his neck, so he continues nudging the chicken around in the pan. It's one thing to receive such praise during a scene, but for George to be so matter of fact about it out of the blue is almost overwhelming for Ben. He doesn't startle when George rests a hand on his lower back, or when he moves closer so he's standing next to Ben, but it's a near thing.

"What do you want? As a reward?"

"Sir?" Ben stares at his Dom, a little dumbfounded.

"I reward good subs, especially when they've been as good as you. Anything you want and I'll get it for you."

"I- I don't need anything, it's fine." The last two times George rewarded him he had asked for something he needed. Small things. The hand on his back starts rubbing in small circles. Ben rocks with the motion ever so slightly.

"This isn't just about need, Benjamin. Anything you _want_ , just ask."

His dwindling bath bomb collection floats to forefront of this mind, unbidden. He'd had maybe five in total when he moved in 3 months ago. He's been very sparing in their use since then. Trying his best to make them all last as long as possible by breaking them into halves and sometimes quarter sections, sometimes skipping using them entirely after scenes even when a hot bath was all he really wanted from his aftercare. Logically he knows that he could head out to the mall and stock up at any point. George doesn't dictate what he does during the day and Red Oak Mall in its entirety is pet friendly so he could even bring the dogs if he wanted. The credit card George gave him has only bought groceries so far. Plus there _are_ new products he has wanted to try out, but he can never justify it. Ben could never justify spending George's money on something so trivial.

"How about your bath stuff? Aren't you running low?"

His gaze snaps up to George. How did he even know? George doesn't offer an explanation for his inexplicable mind reading. Just waits for a response. Ben stares back down at the chicken in the pan and hopes for an answer to reveal itself in the stray seasoning that clumped at the edges.

"Okay… yes, please," Ben finally says, looking back up, "I would like that."

Besides, he can keep his purchase small. Just get what he needs.

The drive out to the mall is quiet, Ben compulsively holds George's hand the entire way out there. George doesn't comment on it, electing to squeeze Ben's hand instead and occasionally bring it up to kiss Ben's knuckles as he drives. The mall isn't busy for once, and only a handful of other people are mingling in LUSH when they arrive. George presses a kiss to Ben's hair as the approach the store.

"There's something I need to take care of myself, when I'm done I'll come back here and pay everything. Alright?"

Ben nods, mumbling "yessir." Wondering just what business George has to take care of. It’s hardly his place to pry though.

He gets his shampoo, conditioner, favorite shower jelly and small piece of soap he's been wanting to try, and a bubble bar. Mentally tallying up the total as he goes, not wanting to spend too much. Even for a reward. He waits near the bath bombs for George to reappear. Waving off the clerk when she asks if there's anything he wants to test or look at. He doesn't need the temptation. When George does finally arrive there's no helping the spike of anxiety that lurches through Ben as he looks in the basket.

"That’s all you're getting?"

Ben gulps, looking down at his tiny haul. What is too much? Should he have only gotten one bath bomb instead of two? Maybe he should put the bubble bar back. Or the soap.

"It's just what I need, I don't want to get anything that isn't necessary I guess."

George taps Ben's chin, prompting him to look up and meet George's eye.

"Benjamin, this is a reward. This is for you. If you want to get more then go ahead, fill this basket up as much as you want."

"I'm sorry, I don't want to be a burden."

"Never. You are never a burden. You deserve this."

Ben glances back down at his basket, and George brings a hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.

"Excuse me?"

Ben jerks away from the voice, it's the clerk from before, hovering a few feet away and looking hopeful. "Everything going alright? Anything I can show you maybe?"

Ben makes an inarticulate noise, frozen in the spot for the moment. Beat in habits warring with the gentle encouragement, he's broken out of his stupor when George loops an arm around his waist and points at one of the displays. The bath bomb in question is hexagonal in shape, half pink and half blue, the label below says EXPERIMENTER in bold lettering.

"You do demonstrations, right? Is it possible for us to see that one?"

"Of course!"

The girl fills a nearby sink with water, calling out to the store that she's doing a demo of a bath bomb. The bath bomb bursts into color the moment it's dropped in the water, and Ben ends up placing a couple in the basket. Wiggling into whatever opening that was created by the demo the clerk leads them through a few other demonstrations. Lotions and scrubs and soaps, carefully pulling away layers to wheedle out what Ben likes and what he wants to try. Each item gets piled one by one into the basket. He doesn't notice when George pulls the basket out of his hands or when George slips extras of the products Ben shows acute interest in. An hour later Ben has a proper haul of goodies being wrapped and bagged by the clerk. More than he ever would have bought for himself. More than he probably would have bought in a year. More then he ever would have been able to afford probably. George asks that the clerk not state the total, and tucks the receipt in his pocket before Ben can catch a glimpse.

By the time they get back to the car Ben is already giddy, happily going over everything and debating which he'll want to use first. Wondering out loud if he's going to need to buy a larger bin to hold the bath bombs now. George suggests they could get a special display case built for them, if he so wishes.

*************

It's weird watching something that Ben is sure he wouldn’t enjoy for himself.

They're enjoying a casual night at Enigma, having a couple drinks, nibbling at the buffet, having the occasional fuck in an alcove. Ben would normally call it an excellent night, to be under George's attentions in public for an extended amount of time.

George isn't the only Dom proud to show off his sub tonight.

There's one couple. Matching laytex outfits that leaves so little to the imagination. The Dom always has a drink in hand, a virgin martini held in one delicate hand as she leads her sub around. The sub is gagged and blindfolded, panting through their ring gag, obviously quite pleased.

Being tugged around to and fro by a thin chain leash.

The scene makes something itch under his skin. Makes him lean in a little closer to George each time they walk past. Shards of memories dripping off each jangle of the leash.

It is easy enough to bury them. Bury them deep under George's soft touches and broad palms, his lips and tongue hot against Ben's skin. Ben allows the heat to melt them away. Let them slip between the cracks where he can forget them.

*************

There's a shelf in Ben's room, just above his desk, that Ben reserves for the kitschy knick knacks Caleb sends him. Most of them are cheesy little things. The stuff sold in tourist traps rubbing shoulders with finer items made by local artisans of whatever port he's in. Caleb grabs something a each stop. Snow globes and keychains sit next to a lobster made of blown glass and a hand carved miniature totem pole. An igloo proclaiming ANCHORAGE in the shadow of a pewter moose and a Miami palm tree, and a dozen more knick knacks. They're stupid and cheesy and Ben loves them.

Benedict thought them a waste.

George… Ben isn't sure if he has seen the collection yet. Part of him is nervous that there will be the same disdain.

Still, Ben gave Caleb the address for the house. So he could send along any trinkets he found to Ben, the PO box was definitely the first happy sacrifice Ben made when he moved in. Arnold's insistence on going through his mail and Ben's distrust of his neighbors at the apartments making it necessary up until then. It shouldn't be an issue with George, Ben thinks. The Dom hadn't even glanced twice at Ben's mail, doing nothing more than setting it aside during sorting for Ben to open at his leisure.

A package is all he expects when the doorbell rings one day, he calms the dogs and makes his way to the door. Opening it expecting to find some sort of delivery.

"Caleb!!"

"Tallboy!!"

Ben's throws himself at Caleb, sending them both tumbling off the small porch and sprawling across the lawn. The dogs follow suit, Drunkard running out after them to snuffle at Caleb and circle the pair while Vulcan stands on the porch, inspecting Caleb's bag.

"You didn't tell me your were on your way back!"

"I wanted to surprise you! And meet this new Dom of yours."

"I thought you were out by Alaska?"

"Mishap with the boat, it's docked for the rest of season for repairs in Washington state. Flew home."

Ben pulls Caleb into another hug. The house tour is short ( _"smaller than I thought it would be"_ ), the introduction to the dogs shorter ( _"I still say they're horses"_ ), and then Caleb is shucking his bag in Ben's room while Ben leashes the dogs. Struggling to get a hold on Drunkard's collar as the dog squirms in excitement at the prospect of a walk with a new friend. They've decided they need alcohol, just not the probably very expensive stuff George has in the cabinets. They need lay-on-the-couch-and-do-nothing booze.

When George gets home from work they're already drunk and sprawled on cushions laid out on the patio, a fire crackling in the fire pit. Neither of them notice the dogs running to the door to greet George, or the Dom coming out onto the patio. Not until he's threading a hand through Ben's hair to catch his attention.

"You two look like you're having fun."

Ben immediately perks up, and tries to clamber to his feet to greet him. Really only succeeding in making the world tilt sideways. George stops him, kneeling down so Ben can give him the hug he's so insistent on as a greeting.

"This is Caleb! From the boat!" he slurs when he finally pulls back.

Caleb waves from where he's laid back on the ground.

There's a small smile playing around George's lips as he waves back, "Nice to meet you, neither of you are going anywhere tonight, are you?"

Both of them shake their head, and Ben goes back to clinging at George's neck. "I… we got pizza, a lot of pizza, m'too—" Ben circles his hand in the air "—pizza is good and and I forgot a thing, sir. I forgot but I don't know what I forgot?"

That earns him a chuckle and a pat on the back, "I noticed what you forgot, it's okay though. The dogs probably aren't angry with you."

"M'sorry, sir."

"It's fine, my boy. You just stay out here and enjoy yourselves, call for me if you need anything."

They mumble their agreements, and for the rest of the night they're mostly left alone to their own devices. Catching up, getting drunk, and playing little games that require very little movement. At some point George brings his work out onto the patio itself. Watching over the pair as the night goes on. When the fire is nothing more than embers glowing in the night he prods them both up off the cushions and inside. Urging them each to drink a glass of water before further ushering them both upstairs and into Ben's room to go to sleep.

The next morning finds Ben and Caleb shut away in his bedroom, the curtains drawn and the light off in order to keep their hangovers at something resembling manageable.

"He left me painkillers," Caleb mumbles into the duvet.

Ben hums, George had set out water bottles and aspirin for them both to wake up to. It was nice. It was probably the only nice thing in the world right now.

"He's a good one. Keep him." Caleb reaches out blindly to pat at Ben's shoulder, and instead ends up smacking Ben's head.

"Oh my god don't touch me."

************

If everyday could be perfect and good that would be great.

If he could stop _hiding in the fucking closet_ when he has a bad day that would be great too.

But no, that's where he is right now. Curled into a ball, knees pressed tight against his chest with his arms wrapped around them, face tucked out of sight as he sobs. He's not even sure where this came from, he'd just woken up shaking. It was bad enough that George was concerned. Had made a lot of concerned noises and contemplated taking a sub-wellness-day so that he could watch over Ben. That would be too much though, and Ben insisted that he was fine. He would be fine. George didn't seem fully convinced but eventually acquiesced. However Ben’s mood continued tumbling wildly downhill as the day progressed. Ben doesn't even remember what he entered the closet to fetch in the first place. He'd glanced at the safe and thought of the slim envelope that held _that_ single piece of paper and everything had fallen apart. Cracks unsealing and grinding against each other as he collapsed in on himself.

Drunkard keeps nudging and nuzzling at his hands and sides, whining and making other little distressed noises. Trying to get his attention.

"Drunkard stop." More insistent nudging and Ben peels his face up to plead, "Drunkard please stop—"

He can't finish his sentence, littered around him are at least a dozen dog toys. All of Drunkard's favorites, and a few of Vulcan's. Drunkard is sitting in front of him, shifting about nervously in that way that dogs do. Half standing, taking a half step, sitting back down, ducking his head and whining all the while. As if waiting for Ben's permission before crawling all over him. Vulcan stands at the door to the closet, ears perked and on high alert. Looking ready to leap at the slightest disturbance.

Something in Ben's throat and chest cracks, and he sobs, reaching forward.

"Drunky come'ere."

The hound wastes no time clambering forward to crowd into Ben's space. Climbing in his lap, nuzzling and licking at Ben's face and neck in comfort. Ben buries his face in Drunkard's fur hugging the dog close and continuing to sob. But feeling a little more safe, a little less alone.

**********

Growing up his parent's playroom was strictly off-limits to Ben and his siblings. They claimed that it was private, that it was a matter they would learn plenty of when they were "older." Which was fine when Ben was first caught trying to get in at four. Another thing when "older" was reached whether his parents liked it or not and their children's curiosity outweighed any consequences they may reap for defying their parents. Ben's childhood memories smattered with instances of his older siblings receiving a verbal lashing over being caught sneaking into the playroom as the years progress. Until eventually they are encapsulated by his own experiences, him and his sister jittery as they ease the door open. As they open cheap drawers with no tracks and peak in creaking cabinets. Not touching anything they find inside, but their curiosity continually moving them to explore.

For some inexplicable reason George's toy room gives Ben the same feeling.

Sure, he has free reign to go in there whenever he would like. And sure, Ben has been assured by George multiple times that he may handle whatever he would like and ask if they could use whatever sparked his interest. Ben still feels like he's sneaking into somewhere forbidden.

It's enough that Ben finds himself purposefully going in there one day for absolutely no reason. As if just standing among the cabinets and accoutrement is a form of defiance. He pulls down a flogger, swings it idly a couple times, puts it back. Does the same with a riding crop, giving himself a few careful taps on the thigh. At the back is a chest of drawers, tucked behind a covered mirror, Ben's noticed it before but everything he's picked for use himself have never been this far back in the room. It seems the further back the more extreme things get. Or the bulkier anyway. Ben slides open the bottom drawer.

Several different sounding sets and what looks like a few CBT clamps has Ben sliding the drawer closed with the flick of his wrist. Nope.

Open another at random, a lot of electrostim items. Also nope.

Another drawer, empty.

The next brings Ben a bit of pause. The only thing in the drawer is a lacquered box, Ben pulls the box out. Setting it on top of a nearby spanking bench tucked into the corner so he can open it. There is a set of 12 glass cups, a pair of long thin tongs, and a jar of cotton balls inset into padded velvet. A fire cupping set. An exquisite one at that, Ben can't say he knows much about glass making but to his eye the cups look hand spun. Pale threads of color swirl around each cup creating delicate designs. Ben carefully tucks the cups back into their places in the velvet and puts the box back in it's drawer. His curiosity pilling him to a nearby cabinet, swinging the doors open to explore there instead.

**********

Ben waits at the counter of the café to place their orders while George picks out a table. As the line scoots forward a thought occurs to him, that whenever they go out to eat he always sits at the table properly. Always next to or across from George. Always. It's probably a holdover from before. He always had to be within line of sight at a restaurant. Easier to monitor. To control.

The old woman in front of him starts to insist on being told the full history of matcha and Ben glances around the little café. At the other subs that sit unbothered at their Dom's feet. Reading and chatting and working. At the subs who are obviously here without a Dom. Who just chose to sit at the lowered tables kneeling on cushions. Doing so most likely wasn't any sort of dilemma to them. They probably didn't even stop to think about it.

Matcha woman moves on and Ben places their order, taking the little plastic order number and making his way over to the window seat George settled on. Deep breath, then he kneels. Settling down at George's feet.

George's hand drifts down to slowly card through Ben's hair. Ben sighs, leans so that his temple rests against George's knee. After a minute or so his hand pauses and the chair creaks as he leans over. Ben blinks up at George, confused. Did he do something wrong?

"Are you comfortable?"

"Yes?" Of course he is, it's just kneeling. Just as he opens his mouth to ask why the waitress walks up. Sliding their drinks and food onto the table with a Service Smile.

"Do you need anything?"

"Yes," George says at the same time Ben shakes his head. "Do you have anymore kneeling pads? I don't see any." He nods to the empty stand next to the little counter that's there for condiments and napkin.

"Oh, yeah we have some more in the back! We were cleaning them up a bit, I'll go get you one."

She bustles off and Ben watches her go for a moment. Then look sup at George with some mild confusion, head cocked to the side. His Dom merely smooths his hair back, tracing the back of his fingers down Ben's cheek to cup his jaw.

"I just want to make sure you're comfortable."

Ben can feel his cheeks heat as George strokes his thumb across his jaw. He mumbles something about how he was perfectly comfortable at the moment. There's no heat to the statement; sure he's comfortable now, but that doesn't mean that an hour from now he'll still be as comfortable. George ducks down to press a kiss to his forehead just as the waitress arrives back with a short stack of cushions. She hands the top one off to Ben and then turns to place the rest in the holder.

"You would know better than I would. I just want to be sure," George says, hand still carding through Ben's hair as he tucks the cushion under his knees.

"Thank you."

"Anything for you, sweet thing."

**************

Cookies were not supposed to cause this much trouble, Ben thinks as he drags his hands down his face. Sitting on the floor of the walk-in pantry and waiting for a reply from George. A thought, unbidden, floats to the top of his mind that maybe he should have sent George a picture as well. Does he even know what a stand mixer looks like? No! Ben scolds himself. That is mean. George said he just doesn't like to cook. Not that he is completely incapable.

 **_Sir:_ ** _I am sorry, Ben, I do not._

Ben's brow furrows as he reads the message.

 **_Ben:_ ** _do u have a hand mixer?_

 **_Sir:_ ** _I do not believe so._

This prompts another search of the kitchen. Leaving him just as empty handed as the first few searches have. There are enough empty spaces for a trove of small appliances. Barren shelves and vacant cabinets that are home to a fine layer of dust. So he owned these things… at one point? Maybe? Not that it helps now. Ben's phone chimes again.

 **_Sir:_ ** _My former sub, Alex, bought several smaller appliances. However when he moved out I encouraged him to take the items with him._

Well. That's certainly an answer.

 **_Ben:_ ** _k thank_

"I need to go to the store," Ben mumbles to himself. Biting his lip as he stands in the kitchen. He… could go out and buy these things. It just seems weird to shop on George's money instead of his own, Groceries are one thing but…

But…

He can't keep cooking forever with one cutting board and a single cookware set.

Plus he wants cookies. Homemade cookies. And he certainly can't make those with one cookware set and a single cutting board. With a few quick swipes Ben brings up his friend's group chat.

 **_Ben:_ ** _anyone free today for some shopping? I need to go to the mall_

 **_Nate:_ ** _Not me :(_

 **_Anna:_ ** _Sure! What are you getting?_

 **_Caleb:_ ** _yeah !!! :D :D_

 **_Ben:_ ** _kitchen stuff, George has absolutely nothing_

_at all_

_I don't even think he has a blender_

Anna is mildly outraged at that, sharing Ben's love of cooking. They arrange their plans, giving Ben enough time to change into clothes that aren't covered in dust and dog hair. Anna arrives first, heading straight to the small kitchen. Throwing open cabinet doors at random, stepping into the pantry, and generally searching on her own and punctuating it with disbelieving cursing. Caleb walks in just as Anna discovers the industrial freezer, by the sound of it.

"What th'hell is she going on about?"

"George has a lot of storage space for someone that doesn't cook. Including an industrial freezer."

Caleb cocks a brow. "Former sub?"

Ben nods. “He told me that his last sub bought a bunch of cooking things. He let the sub take it all when he moved out though."

Anna chooses that moment to appear, arms folded tight across her chest. "Okay so Red Oaks, what store are you planning on going to?"

"Sur La Table? Honestly I'm not sure."

"Well how much are you planning on spending?"

And that's the big questions isn't it. The credit card still burns a slight hole in wallet, still only pulled out for things like food. Groceries and take out, supplies and toys for the dogs. George has never said much about it, just the occasional inquiry. Gentle prodding to try and remind Ben that he is perfectly free to spend that money. It still seems like a Wrong Thing for Ben to do. To spend money that he is being freely given to use as he wishes. Ben shifts back and forth for a moment as he thinks, letting the weight of Anna and Caleb's gazes settle across his shoulders like a blanket. Then squares his shoulders and looks up.

"Probably a whole lot more than I ever would otherwise."

Anna smirks and Caleb laughs. It's all Ben needs.

A frightening amount of money spent later, and the spoils crammed into Anna's van, the trio find themselves wandering the mall. It's like the floodgates of spending have been opened and Ben just wants to splurge on everyone and everything. Some restraint is managed. He does stop in several chocolate shops to take samples and compare, eventually deciding on a brand to use in his cookies later. He spends probably too much money on lunch for the three of them.

The anxiety he expects never comes.

It's all just fun, and a lot of selfies sent to Nate. Happily talking about all the things he can make for his Dom now that he has the proper tools.

Though his restraint does waver in the face of one other store in particular.

**************

The living room looks much larger when empty. The old couch is gone and the coffee table moved into the kitchen in order to ensure the space is free for delivery. This was, by far, Ben's worst idea on that shopping trip. Probably. It was definitely the most outrageous impulse buy he had ever made in his life. This was the idea that will probably get him in trouble. George hasn't commented on the literal thousands of dollars Ben spent in one day but when he gets home today it will force that conversation.

Ben feels like he should be more scared.

Maybe it's because his friends are here with him, and they're all halfway into a bottle of wine as the delivery men stack the boxes in the living room. Ben couldn't help it really. The giant sectional sofas called to him every time they walked past the storefront in the mall. He could picture himself and George stretched out on them, the dogs happily napping away, curling up in one of the giant bean bags in front of the fire. Purchasing them on the whim of that mental picture and the warmth it spread through his body. It feels weird to make such a strong decision about the décor in the house. To go to such an extreme. Yet it doesn't feel dangerous.

The last box is brought in and the delivery men file out. Anna circles the boxes with a wine glass in her hand, downing what's left and setting the empty glass on the mantle.

"Alright, Ben you get started on that bean bag monstrosity." She points at sole item that arrived in a canvas bag, not in a cardboard box. "Nate, Caleb, and I can start on the actual sofa."

Several hours and the rest of the first bottle of wine and a second bottle later everything is set up. More or less. The bean bag still has some expanding to do over the next couple days. Ben has fed his friends Too Much pizza and piled them into a Uber. He's hardly noticed the time when the dogs go running to door at the sound of George entering. A sudden silence marks a pause in the routine George has. He's hung up his keys, set down his bag, and removed his shoes, but Ben hasn't heard him remove his coat or greet the dogs. So George must have at least spotted the bean bag from the door. Half a minute passes, then a full minute, then the rustle of his jacket and his low voice. Soft measured footfalls bring the Dom into view, pausing at the dining table to survey the dark grey bean bag sitting by the fireplace and Ben sprawled across the navy colored couch.

"This does explain some things," he finally says after a long moment. Taking a few steps forward to sit on the couch. He doesn't sit back all the way, instead perching on the edge of the large cushion. Ben rolls over so that he is pressed up against George's side.

"Are you okay with this, sir?"

Another long pause, then George moves himself back to sit on the couch. Not properly, Ben notices, there is more of a slouch to George's posture than usual. A comfortable curve to his body as he settles against the cushions. Even George's feet barely reach the edge of the cushions. He lifts an arm and Ben follows the unspoken command to cuddle up against his side.

"Oh yes," George murmurs, "this is quite the improvement, my brilliant boy. How long have you been thinking about getting this?"

"Um, it was more an impulse, sir."

"Impulse? Truly?"

Ben nods against his chest, "We kept walking by the store at the mall, cause it was on the way whenever we went to load up Anna's van. Every time I just wanted to stop in and just take a look around. That was all. Finally we did pop in and well… oops?"

George smiles and presses several kisses to Ben's hair and face. The outpouring of affection making Ben giggle, which only earns him more and more kisses.

**************

"I've actually never had vanilla sex."

Ben's not entirely sure how the subject came up, but it does. They're on the new couch after dinner. Ben's stretched out across it, feet in George’s lap and one arm hanging off the edge of the edge to scratch behind Drunkard's ears. George has a hand casually looped around one of Ben's ankles, thumb dragging back and forth over the arch. He stops when Ben mentions that little fact about himself, almost looking confused. Ben just shrugs against the cushions.

It's a fact, it's not something that he could necessarily help. Benedict had no interest in vanilla sex, said it was "a denial of their nature." And maybe he was right. That’s what Ben figured anyway. It wasn’t like Ben could just detach himself from being a sub any more than he could from being human. Besides lot of people growing up had described vanilla sex as boring or something just for people who were baseline.

The look in George's eyes bothers him though.

It stays with him through the rest of the night. He's not sure what he said or did wrong in that conversation. Ben takes some time to himself to take a bath, kicking the still fizzing bath bomb around the bottom of the tub with his toe. Submerged up to his nose, his hair piled in a messy bun on top of his head to avoid getting it wet as much as possible. He runs the conversation over in his head again and again to find that one little thing that he said wrong.

Or did wrong.

Implied wrong?

He's not sure.

Ben slips on one of George's old shirts and a pair of boxer briefs in lieu of actual pajamas, sitting crossed legged in the middle of the bed instead of going back downstairs to face George again. Sure, it would make his life easier to just go _ask_ George what was wrong. But that would be awkward, and Ben isn’t even sure how to start that conversation. His phone proves an excellent distraction when George comes upstairs. Allowing Ben to keep up a facade of relaxation as George gets ready for bed.

He instinctively looks up when George climbs on the bed and surprised by the look in George's eyes. Arousal pools in Ben’s gut as George pulls his phone from his hand and tosses it aside.

"Sir?"

"Not right now," George says, capturing Ben's lips in a kiss. He loops an arms round Ben's waist to pull him close, the other coming up to undo the bun and let his hair tumble free.

"I don't know what- what do you mean?" Ben whispers when the break apart.

George lays Ben back on the bed, sliding his knee up between Ben's legs to give him something to grind against while he sucks a dark mark on the underside of his jaw. "No orders, no rules for you to follow, this isn't a scene. It's just you and me."

Ben shivers as George slides his shirt up, sucking and kissing at the revealed skin as he goes, until he can slip the shirt over Ben's head and toss it away. Dipping his head back down to lick and suck at one nipple, then the other. Hands drifting down to lift Ben's hips up against him, squeezing and groping his ass.

Ben arches under the attention, one hand twisting in the sheets while the other grips George's shoulder. Letting out a moan when George's hands slide past the waistband of his boxer briefs. He bucks up, and George leans back to slip his underwear off. Ben doesn't even stop to think about what he's doing, reaching out to fumble with George's fly. His hands shake as he pops the buttons free and shoves at the waistband.

George cups Ben's face once his legs are free. Leaning Ben back on the bed, he nips at Ben's collarbone as he fumbles in the bedside drawer for lube. Lavishing attention across the slender neck as he slicks two fingers up, swallowing Ben's moan with a kiss as he circles Ben's entrance with one finger before inserting it slowly.

Ben bucks down against the contact, moaning into George's shoulders and back as a second is added, a third. "More, I'm ready, please!" Ben gasps. George chuckles against the side of his neck, nipping at the skin there.

"Eager."

"You're taking forev—" Ben cuts himself off with a whine at the loss of sensation as George removes his fingers. Somehow all of this feels so _new_ , the press of George's cock at his entrance, the feel of his lips on Ben's throat, the way he kisses Ben. All of it. Ben doesn't spare a thought as to whether he's going to be in trouble as he digs his fingers into the meat of George's shoulder, demanding more with each thrust. Wrapping his legs around George's waist, desperate to bring them even closer together. One of George's hands slipping between them to pump Ben's cock in time to his thrusts.

_"George, George, please!"_

He cries out, voice ragged, as his orgasm rushes through him. Leaving him shaking and clinging to George as he fucks Ben through his orgasm. George’s own following shortly after. Cleanup is quick and simple. Soon enough they're both tucked under the covers. Ben sighs and tucks his head under George's chin. A sense of calm settling in his bones. That wasn't what he thought it would be.

"How do you feel?" George murmurs into his hair.

"Good," Ben whispers.

Nothing more is said, and Ben is content to drift to sleep in strong arms.

************

Ben shifts back and forth as they wait in line to board the plane. Nerves making themselves at home in his stomach. In two hours they'll land in New York, a short stop at their hotel to drop off their bags and then George meets his family.

The entire Tallmadge clan. When Ben first presented his mother's request for them to come over for Thanksgiving he had been nervous. Unsure how George would react. In fact George had seemed almost excited. Almost eager at the chance to meet Ben's siblings and parents. Had happily encouraged Ben when he started buying dozens of presents and shipping them to Setauket ahead of their arrival.

George shows the flight attendant their tickets. She smiles and has them follow her into first class. Ben's not sure what he expected of first class seating. Cushier seats? Maybe Privacy curtains? Whatever it was, this is a whole lot more.

There are walls, each about five feet tall, surrounding each seat. Forming private little nooks. The Flight attendant leads them to one by a window, all smiles and asking if they need anything. Ben leaves that to George. Deciding to examine every little bit of their little cubby instead.

George had decided on getting a couple's seat, so it's wide enough to sit two people. Cushions soft to the touch and already singing the siren song of a nap to Ben. A panel lines the wall under the window, acting both as a thin shelf and containing a panel for the seat's controls and Ben's pull out tray. A screen is set into the wall opposite. Ben's so busy ferreting out every secret their seats hold he hardly notices George putting away their carry om.

"Can I even plug in my phone to watch something? Holy shit I can."

"I'm sure," George says. He gives Ben a couple nudges with the corner of his book. Getting the sub to scoot over and make room. It also prompts Ben to turn his attention to the side panel. With the push of a button his foot rest rises, seat adjusting until he is almost fully reclined.

"This is so extravagant."

"If you say so."

Ben grins, undoing the latches that reveal the compartment that hides his table. "Hey, I'm so used to being broke that this is all new to me. Let me enjoy it."

For a moment there is no reply, then George clears his throat, "I will have to take you on a longer trip at some point then. As this is rather basic, as far as first class goes."

Ben laughs.

After take off is when Ben gets the chance to fully relax. Immediately removing his seatbelt and rising the footrest again, tucking himself into George's side as his Dom brings up his own footrest and readies his book. The flight attendant stops by, offering them some water or maybe a pillow? Reaching out on a limb Ben asks for a blanket, and to his delight she produces the fluffiest damn blanket he has ever seen from the bottom of her cart. Now is when he gets his chance to look around. From this position the walls are surprisingly high, surprisingly private.

He's always been… curious.

But Benedict would never. Hated even the idea.

Ben takes a deepbreath.

"Sir?"

George hums, the arm wrapped around his shoulder coming up to stroke his hair.

"Think that uh… do you think that we could get away with sex here? It is pretty private." Heat pools in his core at the very thought. There's enough room, George could pin him down by his wrists, hold them above his head and have his way with Ben.

His Dom looks down at him and cocks a brow. "I certainly paid enough for these seats that we could get away with it," he says, voice a low rumble with a wry smile, "however, my dear boy, someone would certainly hear us. Unless you were silent."

Ben squirms at the thought, palming his cock under the blanket as a flush crawls up his neck.

"Nevermind that the flight attendants would get an eyeful every time they walk past."

He bites down on his lip to stop a moan, flushing deeper at the mere thought. His Dom's arm slides lower, slipping around his waist and pulling him closer in the already tight space.

"Or would you like that, my pet? Everyone in this cabin knowing that you belong to me?"

"Yes," Ben gasps. "Yes, I want that. I want everyone to know."

George hums, "That is good to know, pet, I will keep it in mind. Thank you for sharing that with me." Strong fingers wrap around Ben's forearm over the blanket, shifting Ben's hand away from his groin and holding it in place on his thigh. Ben bucks and wriggles, desperate for contact, but his Dom holds fast.

"Now, now, my darling boy. This flight is barely two hours and you hardly slept last night. So catch up on you rest. We'll worry about getting you in the mile high club later."

************

Ben isn't sure what to expect as they drive to his parent's house, past the marina and into the lush tree-filled suburbia of his old neighborhood. The last time he was home was for a rushed moment after he left Benedict. The only things that separated him from home at the time was The Long Island Sound, three panicked hours of travel later and then Ben was back home. Months spent with eyes trailing the pale sliver of land he could see across the water on a clear day, and finally he was able to cross.

So shortly after he followed Anna and Caleb to Red Arbor. The extra distance from New Haven was a comfort.

Now George is pulling up in front of the house, their little rental joining the herd of vehicles crowded in the street. His parents house is a squat little piece of fifties suburbia, rectangular, with small windows and a matchbox sized porch. The snow in the front yard has already been trampled flat by a dozen tiny snow boots. Ben leads George along the clean sidewalk, his Doms hand a steady presence against his lower back.

"Are you ready to meet literally everyone?" Ben asks, stomach churning as he smiles.

"I can't wait."

Can't wait. Can't wait. There is no ceremony to this, Ben swings open the door and steps inside. His stomach calms and a grin splits across his face when he is met with the familiarity of home. The distant mixed voices of his family, kids are shouting and there's a fussing baby, the vague clatter of cookware and the scent of diner wafting through the entire house. Then he is met with a flood of children. All of his nieces and nephews rushing to hug his legs and jump about in the small space. The foyer is tiny, a matchbox within a matchbox that is comprised mostly of front door and overstuffed coat closet. He's pressed back into George, both of them almost tumbling right back out onto the porch with the force of the kids.

"Uncle Ben is here! Uncle Ben you're here!! Uncle Ben!! Uncle Ben!!!!" Their shouts and excitement meld together until they start to drown out everything else.

Rescue comes in the form of Sam and Corinne. His sister wading right into the sea of excited faces and sticky fingers while Sam scoops them up one by one setting them a short ways away.

"Okay okay!" Corinne shouts, voice carrying above their excited cries, "Back up and let your Uncle breath a bit. Nope! Don't quiver that lip, scoot! He's gonna be here all week, spread out the love a little bit."

It works in dispersing the kids, most run off just as happily as before but a few sulk away. Obviously lurking in wait for Ben to be free again. A few must be herded away by Sam, having fallen into hysterics so they can be calmed down. For the moment Ben and George are free to kick off their shoes and actually step out of the foyer. Removing their jackets and tossing them on the nearby loveseat. Corinne immediately scoops Ben into a hug. Squeezing him tight before letting him go and holding him at arm's length.

"Look at you, Benny! Oh you look so much better."

"Thanks! You look great as well, you _sound_ great, Cor!"

Corinne preens a bit, "That vocal therapy works wonders!" She grins. "So, introduce me to your new Dom! Who has my brother so enamored?"

Ben flushes, "George, this is my sister Corinne."

"George Washington, a pleasure to meet you."

Corinne immediately pulls George into a hug, a knot Ben didn't realize had formed in his chest loosens. Even as his mother bustles in from the kitchen, loudly proclaiming that she needs to see her boy now that he's home. He misses whatever Corinne says to George as his mother scoops him into a properly crushing hug, swaying a bit on the spot. It feels like it's an eternity later when she pulls back to give him a once over, nodding when she approves of whatever she gathers from his appearance.

"Good, you're looking much better, much healthier."

"Thanks, Mom, George has been good for me."

It's all the prompting needed apparently. His mother turning to George and giving him a surveying once over. Corinne moves out of their mother's eyeline, rolling her eyes just a bit at the protective display. Ben shrugs, he's the only sub out of the five of them and the youngest at that. Can it really be helped? Especially since their mother is a Dom?

Whatever she finds in George is apparently suitable though. Her features soften and she easily offers her hand with a sweet voiced, "Susannah Tallmadge, you must be the George I've heard so much about."

It feels like Ben spends the next several hours introducing George to everyone. His nieces and nephews following in a curious herd as Ben gives George a quick tour of the house, dropping their coats off on his parent's bed. Then mingling as much as Ben is capable. It occasionally feels like he's being pulled in a dozen different directions at once, and maybe he is. Trying to stick close to George while also being pulled away by family. Will wants to interrogate him on how he's been doing and "mom said you haven't bought a car yet, do you need help affording one?" while Jack corners George. Every so often his mother swoops in and tells them to back off a bit. She is almost immediately drawn away by cooking obligations though.

In between is seems that Ben and George have been accidentally delegated the job of keeping an eye on the kids. Which is… admittedly hilarious at points. George doesn't quite seem to know how to handle children. He doesn't ignore or demean them like other child-illiterate adults might. If anything it seem that he is even more respectful to the children. Treating them all as tiny adults. Turning the herd into his biggest fans. Much to Sam's false chagrin when his oldest boy proclaims that George is now his favorite person based on the fact that George apparently treats Ben the Third like a Big Boy instead of a baby.

"He's got you, now my son," Sam says, catching Ben round the shoulders. "If he gets Dad on his side then he'll have captured each Ben in the family!"

Then a minor disaster strikes.

Ben's not quite sure what happened at first, but he has a mild hunch when thin grey smoke starts wafting up from the basement. It's only confirmed a moment later when Corinne and Sam's wife dart out of the basement coughing. The old stove in the basement caught fire. The ancient electrical hazard that has been kicking around since the fifties. Maybe even from the fourties. Finally it has kicked it's last, while holding half the side dishes for dinner.

All hands are on deck, Most of the family rushing downstairs to asses and aid, Ben following on automatic. Taking up the responsibility to usher the kids and teens up out of the basement and then out of the kitchen. Corralling them as their inherent curiosity drives them to want to know and see everything that's happening.

When the dust settles the side door has been propped wide open, the fire smothered and stove moved out of the basement to sit morose in the driveway. Fans hauled out of storage in an attempt to direct the smoke out of the basement.

And George is holding a baby.

It brings Ben to pause, the sight of George sitting there with a little baby, bundled in a yellow onesie and blanket, nestled into the crook of his arm. Giving careful consideration to several drawings being presented to him as if he were at an art show. There's no real time for him to concentrate on the incongruity of the scene. The moment the children realize that things have calmed down they disperse. Determined to view the aftermath. Breaking the little scene before Ben can fully take it in.

"Are you going to get a new one, Dad?" Jack asks, following Ben Sr. and Susannah into the kitchen and sitting with them at the kitchen table. The rest of the family slowly filtering into the kitchen as well.

"We've been looking, and there is one we've had our eye on for a while now. But… well we just aren't sure when we'd have the money."

Ben frowns, "You need the extra oven, though. Don't you?"

"Mainly for the church bake sales, but don't you worry about it honey." His Mom shrugs off his concern, "We'll manage either way."

"Mom, how the hell are you going to manage?" Corinne asks.

"We just will, my dear."

They go back forth with their children from several long minutes. Insisting that they will somehow find a way to supply everything needed for their church functions when down one oven. Until George’s measured tones break the cycle of a building argument.

"I could pay for the new stove, consider it an early Christmas gift."

Every eye in the room snaps to George, standing at the divide between the kitchen and the living room. The baby in his arms blinking sleepily, George’s movements having disturbed their nap. Warm pride blooms in Ben's chest at the sight. At the offer being made by his Dom.

"Oh, George no, we couldn't ask you spend that much on us!" his Dad immediately demurs. Susannah jumping to assure George that they'll be fine, really! He is insistent though. That he can afford one just fine, that it would be no problem at all. Ben Sr. caves first, producing a worn-out magazine from a nearby drawer and opening it to a dog-eared page.

Corrine bumps Ben with her hip, smirking over at her brother. "Is your Dom for real?"

"Yeah, yeah he is.” Ben's face splits into a grin so wide it almost hurts, “and he's fucking amazing, sis."

************

It has been so long since Ben has been excited for Christmas. The last time he remembers was the Christmas he had with his family before he left for Yale. The years since then are all marred by tension thick enough to make Ben sick just thinking back on it. So he doesn't.

Ben pours all his being into decorating on the first day they get snow after returning to Red Arbor, their bags barely unpacked from Thanksgiving with his family. He rolled out of bed and saw snow, and suddenly felt like a child with the way his chest swelled. Hauling out the bins labeled CHRISTMAS in neat block lettering and a slightly beat up Christmas tree box from the not-a-basement. The tree goes up first, it's a pre-lit tree. The little white lights twinkling as he dedicates his time to hanging the delicate vintage ornaments. Many of them look old enough that he is pretty sure they're from George's childhood. The paint on them gone hard edged with age, the smallest flecks of glitter coming off on his hands. What little unpainted glass that can be seen around the edges are mottled brown. Ben hangs the first few with shaking hands, sure that he may break them if he looks at them incorrectly. The boxes labeled OUTDOOR LIGHTS are stacked neatly by the front door to wait for a break in the snow. He wraps garland around the stair railing, around the front window, puts more up along the bottom of the cabinets that are above the little bar area. More garland frames the back door.

Above the fireplace he arranges two small false poinsettia bouquets. Making sure not to block the view of the television. He hangs the three stockings he finds, one for George, one for Drunkard, and one for Vulcan. A matching set of dark blue velvet, the names embroidered on the cuffs in gold thread. The dog's stocking each featuring paw prints and bones embroidered on the body of the stockings in more gold thread. George's stocking features a plain diamond pattern embroidered in the same thread.

Ben is just about finished by the time George gets home.

"I decorated!" He cries the moment he spots his Dom, practically bouncing down the hall to greet George. Forced to wait impatiently as George toes off his shoes, removes his coat, and sets down his work bag. He doesn't set down the slim white box held in the same hand as his work bag, merely switches hands before holding his arm out in invitation. Ben immediately tucks himself into George's side.

"I can see that," he says as they walk further into the house. George taking a moment when they get to the living room to glance around and appraise Ben's decorating. Pressing a kiss to Ben's temple. "It looks superb my sweet boy."

Ben beams.

"There's only one thing missing."

And then falters, smile dipping ever so slightly.

"Don't make face, my boy. You couldn't have known, I wasn't able to pick it up until today anyway." With that George holds up the slim box for Ben to take. Giving Ben a bit of space but keeping his hand on Ben's lower back.

Ben glances down at the box, takes it, then glances up to George again. There is no indication of brand or store. Even when Ben turns it over, it remains a plain white gift box. Ben pops the tape holding it closed and lets the lid fall away, moving the tissue aside with his free hand to reveal a stocking. The same dark velvet as the others, a pattern of stars across the body of the stocking and _Ben_ embroidered across the cuff in the same gold thread. Tears blur his eyes as he glances up at George.

"I had to get a matching one for you, my boy. That way we can all match."

Ben just barely manages to squeak out a thank you, the rest of the packaging falling away as George takes the stocking. Barely able to see through his tears Ben watches as George shifts Vulcan and Drunkard's stockings over, fishes out one more stocking holder, and hangs Ben's stocking next to his.

"There now it is perfect."

It feels like Ben spends the next few weeks staring at his stocking whenever he is home. Four stockings in a neat little row like they're a proper family. The thought making him tear up every time without fail. He sends pictures to his friends and family, gets to field a teary call from his mothert. Her own shaky voice and the way she keeps enthusing that _"I knew it, the moment I shook his hand during Thanksgiving I knew it. He's a good one, Ben"_ only serving to make him more emotional.

With his emotions running so high Ben is grateful that it will only be the two of them this year. Not a request or a demand on George’s part. Ben would agree anyway, this relationship is so new. He would hate to share First Christmas with anyone else.

And god, that's what it's turned into hasn't it? Not just a long term contract, a relationship. Does George even realize? Even think about what they have as a relationship or is it still just a contract to him? Ben tries not to linger on the thought too much. For now he can just enjoy the happiness and excitement for the holidays. A time will present itself for serious conversation if needed, Ben is sure.

There is no sign of these thoughts on Christmas morning. Ben wakes to strong arms around him and bright morning light filtering through the slit in the heavy winter curtains. He shuffles closer to George, enjoys the sleepy squeeze he gets in return. Then it hits him. Christmas. It's Christmas! Ben shoots upright.

"It's Christmas! Sir! It's Christmas!"

George blinks up at him blearily, pawing at the bedside table for his glasses. "So it is, how about I meet you downstairs?"

It's all the permission Ben needs to rocket out of bed. Getting the dogs excitement levels rising to a barking fervor from proximity alone as he races to the living room. He lets the dogs out, gets the coffee going, then finds himself bouncing on his toes. Should he make breakfast first? Is George a breakfast first then presents kind of person? Ben hasn't actually _met_ anyone like that but he's heard things and the presents stacked under the tree taunt him terribly. Drunky and Vulcan are back at the door, so he lets them in and dries their paws before feeding them. The coffee gurgle to a stop, just in time for George to round the corner. Looking deliciously rumpled in his sleep shirt and pants. He pauses just long enough to press a kiss to Ben's forehead.

"Let me get my coffee and then we'll do presents."

Ben bounces off towards the tree in the corner. Plopping unceremoniously on the floor, already sorting out the presents. One big box for him, then a smaller one roughly the size of a shoebox, and finally a small slim box. For George the boxes are all mostly the same size and shape. Ben had found himself a bit at a loss of what to get George, it certainly seemed like the man had everything that he could ever need. Instinct had prodded Ben in a certain direction though and instinct hasn't let Ben down yet when it comes to George.

George settles into the big bean bag with a grunt, coffee balanced on his knee. With an excited noise Ben moves George's stack of presents to his right, his own stack of presents on his side of the bean bag and cuddles up next to George.

"You go first, sir."

George glances at Ben over the edge of his mug. Reaches up to touch Ben's nose, "and if I wanted you to go first, kitten?"

Ben pouts.

George watches him, eyes playfully searching Ben, for several long moments. For several long measured sips of his coffee.

"Alright, pet, I will go first then." George passes his mug over for Ben to hold while he takes up the first box. Ben got him several lengthy sections of hemp rope in different colors (having noticed an absence of hemp rope in George's toy room), a pair of rabbit fur floggers, an extra-wide deerskin flogger, and a rose bouquet flogger. He takes his takes his time with each item as the boxes are opened, inspecting and appreciating the craftsmanship of each piece, laughing outright when he gets to the dozen roses. Pointing out that he had never even seen such a thing before as he turned several of the roses over in his fingers.

"Thank you very much, my darling Ben," he murmurs as he pulls Ben in for a kiss. Light and chaste. "Now it's your turn."

Ben passes the mug back, immediately reaching for the little box on top only for it to be slipped from his hands.

"This one last, start with one of the others."

"Oh… okay…" Ben grabs the next box. Ripping the paper off and barely registering the logo of a local pet play shop as he flips the lid off. Nestled amongst the tissues paper is a full pet play set. Two matching sets of ears and a tail, one with short fur the other with longer fur. Even at a glance Ben can tell that the fur has been matched to his actual hair color. Without a second thought Ben slips the fluffier ears on his head and wraps George in a quick hug before moving on.

The box is almost as big as his own torso. When the wrapping paper is gone the familiar scents hit Ben, and he turns to George with wide eyes. The Dom says nothing, only sips his coffee and watches Ben with warm eyes. The lid goes flying. Leaving the faintest trail of glitter in the air. It smells like the entire store has been crammed into this box. There must be dozens of individually wrapped bath bombs, jars, soaps and scrubs. Each with their own neat little label displaying the name of the product to make it easy for Ben to identify. He spends a lot of time digging through the box, examining different labels and opening a select few that have unfamiliar names. Thanking George more times than he can count.

Eventually he sets the box aside and turns to George. Hands held out patiently for his final present, ripping the wrapping paper off the moment it's in his hands.

The box is slim and sleek, the glossy words ~ _To Keep For A Lifetime~_ stare up at him.

"These past months have been rewarding, Ben. It's been a privilege to be your Dom." George's hands have come up to hold Ben's own around the box. "I feel that I should be thanking you, subs like you are rare. This has become so much more than just a contract for me, you are so much more than just a sub to me. If I could I would keep you forever. That decision is yours to make, however." George lets his hands drop, allowing Ben to lift the lid with a shaking hand.

It's a collar. The leather dyed a pale blue with embossed vine work crawling across it in a darker blue. The buckle is a shiny golden brass color. A soft cream colored suede pads the inside, so it won't be uncomfortable against the skin during long term wear.

When Ben looks up at George he can't see his Dom through his tears. Ben quickly swipes them away only for more to rush forward. This is a dream, this has to be a dream. Ben swallows and slips the collar out of the velvet casing that holds it. Running his thumb along the suede.

"Do you like it?"

Ben can only nod, his throat closed tight against any words he may have. The leather itself is soft and pliable, the kind where Ben can tell it will be as comfortable as cloth after enough use. He can see it, in his mind's eye; the collar soft and creased from being worn, from being taken on and off more times than can be counted. A million little marks from a lifetime of being worn and loved. That's his future. He's holding it in his hands.

Warm hands wrap around his, joining them in holding the collar. George has leaned in even closer.

"May I?"

“Please," Ben's reply is barely a whisper.

George takes the collar from him carefully. Presses a kiss to Ben's forehead before instructing him to turn around. George sweeps Ben's hair over his shoulder to see what he's doing. Ben isn't prepared for the rush he gets at the feel of the suede against his skin, for the way George carefully adjusts the fit of the collar. Sweeping two fingers between the front of his throat and the collar. The buckle clicks a bit as George closes it. He double checks the fit, then presses a kiss to the nape of Ben’s neck, right above the buckle.

Ben sighs, leaning back against George's chest. Letting the warmth consume him. Concentrating on the feel of the collar on his throat.

He is finally home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEVERAL THINGS!
> 
> 1: Send some love to @wellreadfan, who was wonderful and helped me greatly in building some of these scenes. Especially the flight to Setauket and Thanksgiving with the Tallmadges.
> 
> 2: [This is the kind of couch Ben bought!](https://twitter.com/megturney/status/811241210534854656) It is a lovesac sactionals couch, I do not have one but like, I will live vicariously through Ben. I have heard they are v comfy.
> 
> 3: You can find me on [the blue hellscape](http://comp-lady.tumblr.com) and [pillowfort,](https://www.pillowfort.io/CompLady) as always

**Author's Note:**

> [I am on the tumblr!](http://comp-lady.tumblr.com)


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